Cherchez la Femme
by minx
Summary: Chapter 8: The cast of thousands convenes for the climactic finale, as Harry, Hermione, Ginny and Ron battle Narcissa and Lucius, while Gabrielle suffers, Sirius frets, and Fleur bickers with Ron.
1. Strangers in the Night

A/N: No slash disclaimer this time - valuing versatility in all aspects of life, I've tried to write a straight story. The opening scene is part of my Wilkie Collins Tribute Hour (not to be confused with my on-going J.K. Rowling Tribute and Acknowledgment plan); perspicacious readers will note that the scene follows a famous one from _The Woman in White_ very closely - I've shamelessly lifted it and adapted it for my own ends here. But the Victoriana stops there. Fans of 18th-century literature can play spot the _Fanny Hill_ allusion later in this section. And a little Frank Sinatra in the subtitle. So something for almost everyone.

THANKS to my trusty beta-reader, Wotan, who I sincerely hope is welcoming the new year in style and slurping copious amounts of champagne.

CHERCHEZ LA FEMME PART 1: Strangers in the Night

Harry Potter walked quickly along the darkened country lane, intent on reaching the Burrow and escaping the chilly autumn evening. He'd just flown to the edge of Ottery St Catchpole following a visit to the Diggorys, with whom he'd tried to stay in touch ever since Cedric's death ten years ago. 

The visits always made him feel guilty, though, like he should have donated his Triwizard prize money to a charity such as the Squib Job Training Trust, or the Home for Aged Aurors. So Harry liked a walk to clear his head and to remind himself that giving Fred and George seed money for their now-thriving business had brought more pleasure to people's lives than a Cedric Diggory Memorial plaque on a wall would have done. 

Harry tried to shake off his gloomy thoughts. He'd come off what felt like an extremely trying week in town and was looking forward to a weekend with the Weasleys. Ginny was the only Weasley offspring still living at home now, but Ron was down for the weekend, and Sirius had become a sort of long-term houseguest, so almost all Harry's favourite people would be waiting for him.

The walk turned out to be further than Harry had remembered, and the vision of the Weasleys' warm, bright kitchen proved very appealing. The night was quiet, with the only noise the sound of faint owl hooting. Harry smiled, thinking of Hedwig and wondering if she was enjoying a night hunt.

A flash of motion captured his attention and he reached inside his robes for his wand. A pale young woman stood at his side, an almost translucent quality emanating from her slight form. Harry judged her to be in her early twenties. Her silvery-blond hair hung limply down her back and her eyes darted nervously like those of a hunted creature. She grasped Harry's arm and asked, "Is this the way to London?"

Harry started involuntarily when the woman touched him. Her hand was so cold he wondered if she could be a ghost. His fingers tightened around his wand, and after uttering a quick 'Lumos' he turned the light in her direction.

The woman cringed at the light and withdrew into the shadows. "I have to get to London."

Harry peered at her. "Why? What's wrong?"

"I haven't done anything wrong. Why do you think I did?"

Harry reached into the darkness and drew her forward, wincing again at the coldness of her skin. "I don't think _you've_ done anything wrong - more like someone did something wrong to you. Are you okay?"

The woman appeared relieved once she understood his meaning. "You're right. Someone has treated me badly. But they won't treat me like that again, not once I'm in London."

"Is that where you're from?"

The hunted look returned to her face. "I was there once, years ago. How far is it?"

Harry did not respond immediately. He rarely encountered anyone near the Burrow, especially not Muggles. But if this woman was a witch, she should have been able to Apparate to London. Then he remembered something Mr Weasley had told him years ago, that many wizards disliked Apparating. Still, there were other means. And this woman didn't seem to know any of them - not even how to flag down the Knight Bus - leading Harry to conclude she must be a Muggle.

"It's too far to walk," he said at last. "You might be able to catch a train at the village. Or if the last one's gone, you could call a taxi."

"No, no trains." The pale girl shook her head. "I've got to go now, before they come."

"Who?" Harry tried to look at her more closely in the darkness. "Who's after you?"

A fierce look crossed her face. "I'm not going back."

"Okay, take it easy. If you come with me, I can take you somewhere safe."

"Thank you," she said, an apologetic tone creeping into her voice. "You must imagine what it is like for me, alone on this dark road." She watched him steadily and Harry could feel her gaze linger on his scar. "But perhaps you can't imagine. It is much easier for a man to travel alone at night."

Both of them paused suddenly as the distinct sound of popping filled the silence. In that split second, Harry reached into his pockets, extracted his Invisibility cloak and tossed it over the girl. "Don't move," he ordered and shoved her behind him, just as three wizards appeared in front of him.

Wand still at the ready, Harry stared at them. "What's going on?"

The men hardly seemed to have noticed him. Rather, they were peering about in the bushes, wands drawn.

"Have you seen a young woman, blond, disoriented?" the nearest wizard demanded of Harry.

"Why?" Harry stared at the man and noticed his grey robes had 'St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries' embroidered on the upper left front corner.

"A patient has escaped from St. Mungo's Hospital," the man informed him in clipped tones. "She is a danger to herself and others and must be returned immediately."

Harry paused for a moment, considering. The girl under his cloak was surely the patient in question, but something held him back and made him say, "I haven't seen anyone."

The man did not seem surprised. He nodded, indicated to the others he was ready to leave, and with another pop, the group Disapparated.

Harry stepped backwards and hissed, "Okay, you can take that off now."

When nothing happened, he reached out a hand behind him, expecting to feel something, but found nothing but air. He stared about, looking for some evidence of the girl and his eyes fell upon something shimmering across a tree branch - his cloak. He strode over to the tree and swiftly grasped the filmy material. The girl had vanished.

"Good of her to leave my cloak," Harry muttered, further confused. If the girl was a witch - and Harry couldn't think of too many other people who could vanish at will - why hadn't she kept something as valuable and rare as an Invisibility cloak? And while she had seemed disoriented, she'd hardly seemed dangerous. Harry had seen the truly insane - he recalled his encounter with the unfortunate Mr Crouch years ago, when he was still at school - and his work as a member of the Ministry's most elite Auror unit brought him into contact with a variety of people, not all of whom were in total possession of their wits.

Shaking his head, Harry stuffed away his cloak and wand and began walking briskly towards the Burrow.

**

Inside the Weasley house, Harry was welcomed by Mrs Weasley, Ron, Ginny and Sirius Black.

"Harry! At last - where have you been?" Mrs Weasley fussed and began bustling about, taking his travelling cloak and handing him a steaming cup of tea.

"Thanks. I, er, decided to walk home after seeing the Diggorys and -" Harry stopped abruptly. Suddenly his actions around the unknown woman seemed absurd. Instead of mentioning her he said, "- and I always need a little time after talking with them."

Mrs Weasley put a motherly arm around him. "Of course, dear."

Harry took a seat in front of the fire and stared moodily into the flames. Sirius pulled up a seat next to him. "Something on your mind, Harry?" he asked in a low voice.

"Several things."

Sirius said no more, but simply sat beside Harry as both drank their tea. In the other room, Ron and Ginny bickered lightly, but Harry could not join their carefree mood. For some reason he kept feeling he had let the stranger down, yet he also felt he should have turned her over - it was what any sane wizard would have done.

Pulling himself back to the present moment, Harry reminded himself how much he'd been looking forward to seeing Sirius that evening. Although Sirius had been formally cleared of murder charges four months ago - thanks in part to the law firm for which Ron now worked - the decision had not been without controversy, and Sirius remained unwelcome in much of the magical community. Decades of suspicions and fear died hard.

"Why don't you go and chat with Ron and Ginny," suggested Sirius, noting Harry's distracted air. "They've been waiting for you. We'll have all weekend to talk."

Harry ambled into the kitchen. For a moment, neither sibling registered his presence and he observed them freely. Even though they had been out of school for several years now, Ron and Ginny looked more like their teenage selves than adults. Perhaps this was due to the fact that Ron had just put a tickling charm on his younger sister, who now ran shrieking from the room and smack into Harry.

"_Finite incantatum_," he said and she fell against him, still gasping with laughter.

Ginny straightened, bounced her palms off his chest and took a step backwards. "Thanks." Then she glared across the kitchen at Ron. 

"You make me tremble for our safety, you really do," Ron said to his sister, obviously relishing this opportunity to engage in some older brother teasing. "What kind of Auror are you if you can't block a simple tickling charm? You'll never get promoted at this rate."

Ginny tossed her head and stalked towards Ron. "Do you really want to see what kind of Auror I am?" she said menacingly. 

Ron merely crossed him arms and raised one eyebrow at her. "Going for the indoor record on late come-backs, are you?"

Harry caught Ron's twinkling eye and, raising his own wand, was about to aim another practical joking curse at her when Ginny whirled around, shouted "_Expelliarmus_" and caught Harry's wand in her left hand.

Without bothering to notice Harry's open mouth, Ginny addressed herself to Ron. "_That_ is the kind of Auror I am." She swiveled back to face Harry. "Here's your wand," she offered and tossed it to him.

Both Ron and Harry eyed her with new respect. As she sauntered towards her brother Ginny added, "Looks like _you_ just set a new record for complete lack of comebacks. But you already held that one, didn't you?" she teased. "And you, Harry - I expect more from someone who has a national magical holiday named after him."

Harry groaned. Harry Potter Day was a continual source of intense, agonizing embarrassment for him. In this case, a memorial plaque would have suited him just fine. Even a large piece of statuary placed at the site of Voldemort's defeat would have been preferable. 

"Let's see if your analytical skills are as good as your dueling," he offered, changing the subject slightly. The three of them took seats at the well-scrubbed kitchen table and Harry outlined his strange encounter on the way to the Burrow.

"She must have been part veela," Ron declared on hearing the tale. "That would explain a lot."

Ginny smirked. "You'd know, wouldn't you?"

Ignoring his sister, Ron continued. "Maybe it was Fleur Delacour."

"Just because she failed to notice your existence ten years ago you think she belongs in an asylum?" snorted Ginny. "And you call Percy Mr Bighead."

"It definitely wasn't Fleur." Harry was silent for a moment, then said, "Well, I expect the St Mungo's mediwizards will find her soon enough. If she's as ill as they say, she can't have got far."

**

The next day passed quickly. With Mr Weasley now a Deputy Minister of Magic and special attaché for Muggle Relations, his job duties frequently took him away from home. Harry knew Mrs Weasley was anxious about this, and while she would never come out and say it, she did mutter quite a lot about how Arthur should be thinking about retirement at his age, not taking on more responsibility. Harry was glad he had some time to spend with her and knew Sirius' presence also made a difference.

His was not the only company Mrs Weasley appreciated, however.

"I know it's been frustrating to you this year, living at home, but I think your mum really appreciates it," Harry told Ginny one sunny afternoon. She and Harry were de-gnoming the garden together, Ron having returned to town to see Hermione.

"It's not so bad," Ginny panted, flinging a gnome across the hedge. "Anything to make her feel better about my being an Auror." Ginny placed her hands on her hips and imitated her mother's voice, "Of all the things to do, Ginny! Think how I'll feel when your hand of the clock is always on 'mortal peril' - why would you ever choose such a career?" 

Ginny dropped her hands to her side and forced a laugh. She had never answered her mother and sometimes still asked herself the same question. Ginny hadn't been through situations like Harry, who had seemingly been born an Auror. Except for the Chamber of Secrets incident in her first year, she'd never come close to an evil as powerful as Voldemort. But she'd always done extremely well in Defence Against the Dark Arts; none of the strange creatures Professor Lupin or the others had presented disturbed her, and both learning and deflecting hexes came easily.

She turned to Harry, a streak of dirt showing across her cheek. "Anyway, Ron comes down as often as he can, and where you find Ron you usually find Hermione. And now there's Sirius, and you - it's a full house."

"Right." Harry grinned at her, swinging a gnome above his head. "And I don't suppose Seamus has anything to do with your being so cheerful?" He let go and the gnome sailed to the field beyond.

"Maybe a bit." Ginny admitted with a smile. "Still, living at home does put a cramp in one's love life. Mum _still_ waits up for me. Honestly, the first two months we were together, every date was like some chaste, third-year, hand-holding thing. It took forever before we finally hooked up." Blushing at her own confession, Ginny busied herself with another gnome before adding, "Of course, as far as Mum's concerned, everything is still completely chaste."

Harry merely raised his eyebrows at her and grinned. He'd been surprised when she and Seamus had started seeing each other - Seamus had a bit of a reputation as a ladies' man - but he seemed completely smitten with Ginny, and she with him.

"How about yourself?" she asked, taking a break to wipe her face, an action which merely added a dusty smudge across her nose.

Harry shook his head. "I don't have time for a social life."

"Too busy de-gnoming gardens? Honestly, Harry, for someone who's been voted Witch Weekly's Most Eligible Bachelor seven years in a row you could get out a bit more."

"I think that's got them all." Harry gestured at the garden.

"Don't try to change the subject."

"Ah, come on Gin. You don't expect me to challenge Lockheart's legacy, do you?"

With an exasperated groan, Ginny punched Harry on the shoulder and trudged back to the house. "Seamus and I are going out later. Why don't you come with us?"

"Thanks, but I need to spend some time with Sirius."

They had reached the back door, where Ginny tugged off her wellingtons before stepping inside. "Okay, but next time you're not getting off so easily," she said, then dashed upstairs in her stocking feet.

Harry wandered into the sitting room, where Sirius sat reading the Daily Prophet. "Not still reading letters to the editor are you?" he asked lightly, glancing over his godfather's shoulder.

Sirius folded the paper and set it aside. "Got to keep up with my fan mail," he joked, but his expression was glum. "Even though I resigned that Ministry post after only one week, people are still writing letters denouncing me. Lot of good that acquittal did me. I couldn't get a job as demon-catcher these days," he sighed.

"Er, that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh? Got a job for me with the demon pound?"

"No, not exactly." Harry outlined his meeting first with the mysterious stranger and the men of St Mungo's, as well as his and Ron's hunch that the woman was part veela.

"Could be," Sirius agreed. "But what's this got to do with demon catching?"

"Nothing. But I want you to help me find her."

"Don't you think the St Mungo's mediwizards have found her already?"

"I suppose. But I feel responsible for her somehow. I told her I'd bring her someplace safe and I didn't." Harry stared at the fireplace.

"Because she ran away," Sirius pointed out. 

"Maybe. Or maybe someone else got to her." Harry stood up and began pacing. "I thought she was a Muggle but if she was in St Mungo's, there's something else going on. Listen, all I'm asking is see what you can find. If anyone knows how to live underground it's you."

"Sure you're not just succumbing to that old veela charm?" Sirius smiled.

"Maybe," admitted Harry. "All the same, I'd like to know."

Sirius stretched. "Seeing as I'm free, I suppose I could help you out."

"Thanks."

"On the condition you get out a bit more. Ginny's right - you should have a social life at your age."

"Were you eavesdropping? She told me that outside!" Harry cried, alarmed.

Sirius smiled again. "Dogs have very good hearing, my boy."

Harry scowled back at him. "Don't see you getting out, meeting the ladies."

"Harry, nobody in the wizarding world will give me a job or rent me rooms, and only a handful will even invite me to their homes. Somehow this doesn't seem the time to make my move into high society."

Their attention was diverted by a sudden whirling in the fireplace. Moments later, Seamus Finnigan stepped out, dusting off ash and running a nervous hand through his sandy curls.

"Ginny around?" he asked.

Harry and Sirius both sat back and grinned at Seamus' obvious nervousness. Even though they'd been seeing each other for almost a year - a personal record for Seamus - he still seemed amazed at his good fortune in capturing Ginny's attention.

"She's getting ready," said Harry. "Have a seat."

"Thanks." Seamus settled himself at one end of the sofa.

"How's Gringotts?" asked Sirius, from the other end.

"Good, good." Seamus had recently distinguished himself by becoming Gringotts youngest fund manager.

"So where are you and Ginny going tonight?" As soon as he asked, Harry realised he and Sirius were doing a perfect imitation of Mr and Mrs Weasley. All he needed to do now was inquire about Seamus' intentions.

But Seamus didn't seem to notice. Instead he groaned, "Some experimental theatre group performance up at Diagon Alley. A bunch of her friends from the feminist witches collective are putting it on. She sat through an eight hour Quidditch match last weekend, so I agreed to this."

"And compromise is the essence of every lasting relationship," joked Ginny as she sashayed into the room.

All three of the men turned and looked at her. She wore short, funky robes and dangly silver earrings. "You look great," said Seamus, standing up.

Sirius also stood, and glanced from Harry to Ginny to Seamus. Harry didn't notice; he was still seated, staring at Ginny. She had let her hair loose from its usual ponytail and it cascaded past her shoulders against the deep blue of her robes. She looked older than he usually considered her. And sexy, he realised, noting with alarm that her hem barely skimmed past her thighs. Good thing her mother wasn't around at the moment. 

Sirius cleared his throat and said, "Have a good evening, you two."

"Thanks." Ginny smiled at Seamus as he helped her into her cloak, then scattered Floo Powder into the flames before them. As she took Seamus' arm, Ginny sneaked a look at him. When Seamus was in a good mood, his eyes seemed to have a perpetual little twinkle in them, as if he'd just heard something both naughty and funny and hadn't yet decided whether to tell anyone else.

"See you later." With a little wave, she stepped into the fireplace and disappeared with Seamus.

**

Ron and Hermione were having an argument. Neither of them was taking it very seriously, mainly because both knew Ron was destined to lose. They leaned against the tall pub table where they stood, their glasses before them, and bickered over where to spend the rest of the evening.

"Didn't we just go to some performance art thing?" asked Ron.

"That was over a month ago. Besides, this is to support Ginny's friends," Hermione said.

"Isn't it enough I go to your things?"

"She's your family. Of course we have to go."

"But Ginny's not even performing. She just organised the thing."

"We're going," Hermione said in a final tone. "Besides, I think you'll like this. It's a witch-positive, revisionist staging of _Macbeth_."

"That sounds interesting," ventured Neville. Ron and Hermione turned to look at him. They'd both forgotten he was with them. "We read it in Muggle Studies one year," he added with an apprehensive look at Ron.

"Fine." Ron rolled his eyes. "Let's just go now so I can get a seat at the back. The last time you dragged me to one of these things we ended up front and I had to do audience participation, remember?"

"I remember." Hermione smiled over at him as they walked out to the street. "And you looked really cute in that tutu."

Halfway to their destination the trio met up with Ginny and Seamus. Hermione, Ginny and Neville walked together, chatting about the play. Seamus and Ron hung back so that Seamus could provide Ron with the final score of the Chudley Cannons match that had ended earlier that evening. 

"Heard it on Wizards Wireless Network, right before I went to pick up Ginny," Seamus offered as Ron groaned on hearing of his team's loss. "Close one, right until their Seeker missed the snitch."

They walked along in silence for a moment, watching Ginny talk animatedly to Hermione ahead of them. With a slight frown, Seamus said, "Ron, I hope you don't mind the fact that Ginny stays over at my place when she's in London?"

"Seamus, I don't care. It's none of my business." Ron walked a bit more quickly.

"Yeah, but she's your sister, and I know your mum is a little old-fashioned and it's not like she stays in the guest room -" Seamus broke off with a grin when he saw Ron's horrified face.

"Too much information, Seamus! I really, _really_ didn't need to know that," Ron grimaced, placing his hands over his ears. "Besides, if there's anyone whose approval you need to worry about it's Percy's. Fortunately for you he's in Albania for eight weeks, trying to help them meet British cauldron-bottom standards. Apparently when You-Know-Who was there he was extremely lax on cauldron thickness. Naturally, Percy is just sick about it."

Ginny and Hermione turned around. "We're here," they announced brightly. 

Ron held open the door for them, and as he and Seamus followed the group inside, Seamus said, "Look at that, Ron. I reckon you might get to wear buttercup yellow tonight," and nudged him in the direction of a display of Elizabethan gowns.

Even Neville laughed as Ron did a slow burn, and none of them noticed the pale young woman who pulled back into the shadows just outside the door. 

**

Sirius loped along the deserted country lane. It had been a long time since he'd adopted his dog form; after living as a dog for so many years he enjoyed being human far too much to transform very often but in this case he needed the speed, anonymity and sense of smell his animagus self afforded. Finding the spot Harry described, he searched for some scent that would help him track the woman. Yet after a thorough search of the area, Sirius popped back to human form. He couldn't smell a thing except Harry. 

Puzzled, Sirius illuminated his wand and searched the area carefully for visual clues, but this proved another dead-end. Not even a leaf seemed disturbed, so if someone had stolen her away from under the Invisibility cloak, they'd done it without leaving so much as a footprint. Knowing the woman was headed for London, Sirius Apparated straight to Knockturn Alley, which seemed the likeliest place to go if you wanted to avoid being found. 

Whereas pubs in Diagon Alley and elsewhere were closing down by the time Sirius arrived, life in Knockturn Alley was just getting started. Sirius glanced around him as he strolled down the street, giving a menacing look to anyone who approached him, particularly the heavily made-up hags in revealing robes. He ducked into Borgin and Burkes. If the girl had been at St Mungo's, Sirius was guessing she didn't have any money and might have visited the shop to sell something.

"Sirius Black," greeted Mr Borgin with a crafty smile. "So _honoured_ you're visiting us. What can I show you this fine evening? A chain collar, perhaps? Or a replica of Peter Pettigrew's finger - they're selling like hotcakes now, you know. The young people like to wear them as pendants."

Sirius sighed very noisily, more like a growl, really, and approached the counter. "I'm looking for a girl."

Borgin's smirk increased. "In that case, I suggest you look to the street beyond. I deal only in collectibles."

"She may have come in here recently," continued Sirius. "Early twenties, long blond hair, dressed in grey?"

Borgin's eyes never blinked. "Sorry. I'm afraid I don't recall a young lady of that description. But then, my memory is notoriously poor."

Sirius grunted. "Right. That help refresh it?" he asked, sliding a gold Galleon across the countertop.

"I'm sorry, Mr Black, but nobody - "

Sirius slapped down another coin. Mr Borgin stroked his chin.

"Now you mention it, someone might have come in, yes. If only you'd told me straight away you wanted a locket I could have been much more helpful," Borgin said. He stepped around the counter and slid back the door of a glass case. Reaching inside he withdrew an engraved pendant.

"She sold this to you?"

"Claimed it was a family heirloom. Very tearful at parting with it, I can assure you. Useless bit of rubbish. It hasn't shown any signs of Dark Magic," Borgin said with irritation. "The most I could coax it to do was snap at my finger."

"How much?"

"One hundred Galleons."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. "One hundred Galleons for a useless bit of rubbish?"

"I need to recover my costs. Paid the girl far too much. But that's me, always one to fall for a beautiful girl's hard luck story."

"I'll give you ten."

"Fifty."

"_Fifteen_," growled Sirius, with a look that would make most men pale. 

Borgin, having had years of experience with a shifty clientele, merely said, "Done," and snatched up the locket. Striding over to the main counter, he completed the transaction and wrapped the necklace in tissue. "Hope to see you again, Mr Black," he said. "Always a pleasure."

Sirius exited without a word, the small parcel grasped firmly in his hand. It was now nearly midnight. So she was in Knockturn Alley. That didn't bode well, but feeling he was hot on her heels, Sirius continued down the street to the Cleland Arms, which served as both a pub and an inn of the less reputable sort. 

He made his way past hags, the odd leprechaun and several grizzled warlocks gripping drained shot glasses. Just as he was about to repeat his inquiries to the bartender, a young witch in bright make-up clattered down the stairs from the rooms above. She wore very little but seemed insensible to her state of undress or the effect it had on the pub's patrons. Instead, she was shrieking with the kind of fright one rarely heard from a Knockturn Alley regular. When she reached the landing that looked out onto the bar, she stopped running and screamed, "He's dead! Dead! It was a vampire done it! Somebody come quick!" 

Sirius flattened himself against the wall as pandemonium broke loose. A large part of the population fled for the front door, while an interested minority bolted up the stairs after the young witch. 

The bartender hadn't done anything during the preceding confusion, just continued filling the glass he'd begun and placed it in front of where Sirius had been standing. "Eight sickles," he said and began polishing a glass.

Sirius paid, picked up his drink and asked, "Mind if I take it upstairs?"

"Please yourself."

Once upstairs, Sirius stood at the back of the small crowd that clung to the open doorway. A few had ventured inside and were bent over the bed. Even from his distance, Sirius could see the splatter of red and saw that it came from the man's neck, where two small marks continued to ooze blood. The witch sat on the only chair in the room, sobbing. An older hag draped a cloak over the younger woman. 

Anything to do with bite marks made Sirius feel he'd best get out of the way. All he needed was for someone to decide he had done this in his dog form. He placed the pint glass on the balcony railing and went out the back way. On the streets, people were rushing by with new urgency and muttering about the murder that had just occurred. Sirius ducked into an alcove, checked to make sure he still had the locket, and Disapparated back to the Burrow.

He arrived with a pop in the Weasley's sitting room. Harry was still awake, staring drowsily into the fire. He sat up straighter when Sirius appeared and pushed back his glasses. "What'd you find?"

Sirius crossed the room and sat next to Harry. "Started out pretty well. Found out she'd sold this to Mr Borgin," he shoved the small packet into Harry's hand, "then thought she might've looked for lodgings down the street."

Harry busied himself unwrapping the tissue. The necklace dangled from his hand. "And?" he asked, looking back at Sirius.

"And everyone was a bit distracted there on account of a vampire biting some unlucky punter."

"Vampire?" Harry frowned. "Don't get many of those nowadays. Are you sure?"

"Well, I didn't perform a close inspection, but from what I saw it looked like it. Anyway, I think your mystery lady is in London. If you've got some time tomorrow you might check things out."

"Thanks, Sirius." Harry tried to make out the forms that were elaborately engraved on the silver disc. "Anything inside?"

"Careful," Sirius cautioned. "Borgin said it snaps."

But Harry had already opened the locket and it appeared as harmless as the jewelry owned by his Aunt Petunia. He did jump back, however, as something glittering and soft slithered out and landed on his lap. Reaching out, he picked it up. A lock of blond hair shone against the light of the glowing fire embers.

"Don't you find it kind of weird to carry around a lock of your own hair?" Harry asked, examining the ringlet with both fascination and distaste.

"What makes you think it's hers?"

Harry replaced the hair and snapped the locket shut. "It's the same colour. But you're right, I guess it could be anyone's. Can you figure out what's written on the front?"

Sirius examined the engraving. "No. The etching is so elaborate, and unfortunately it's seen better days. It's all a little faint." He handed it back to Harry. "Let's take another look tomorrow."

"Sorry." Harry looked guiltily at Sirius sprawled out on the sofa. "I guess I can be a little single-minded when I get onto something."

"That's okay." Sirius smiled tiredly at him, then stood and headed upstairs.

Harry listened to Sirius' heavy footfalls receding but remained by the fire, turning the silver circle over and over in his hands. It had a nice weight to it, and the patina that comes with pure silver. Ginny and Sirius _had_ told him to get out more, he thought to himself with a smile. Maybe he'd finally found a woman worth pursuing. 


	2. Toil and Trouble

A/N: Last episode saw Harry having a strange encounter with a strange woman on his way to the Weasley home. Ron, Hermione, Seamus, Ginny and Neville took in some culture at Diagon Alley and Sirius ventured to Knockturn to dig up the dirt on the mystery lady.

Thank you to Wotan for once again demonstrating Wagnerian energy in performing beta-reading and sundry other editorial assistance.

CHERCHEZ LA FEMME PART 2: Toil and Trouble

Monday morning at the Burrow proved hectic. They'd all stayed up late the night before and as a result no one had awoken very early. Mrs Weasley took charge in the kitchen, believing a healthy breakfast did wonders to compensate for sleep deprivation.

"Arthur, have some bacon," commanded Mrs Weasley. She turned towards the table, frying pan in hand, and observed her husband as he walked to the table twitching his shoulder. "You've forgotten to take your robes off the hanger again, dear," she said, tipping the sizzling bacon onto a plate.

"Oh?" Mr Weasley reached into the back of his robes and pulled out the hanger. "I wondered what that was."

Mrs Weasley bustled back to the stovetop. "Good morning, Harry," she greeted as Harry entered, yawning. "Care for some bacon?"

"Thanks." Harry joined Mr Weasley at the table, while Sirius jumped up to assist Mrs Weasley with the cooking. A flash of bright red hair near the doorway caught everyone's attention.

"And Ginny will be keeping body and soul together with…a banana?" Mrs Weasley regarded her daughter dubiously. "Do you really think that's enough?"

Ginny didn't come further than the doorway. She held the banana with one hand and with the other yanked her hair into a messy ponytail. "I've got to get going," she mumbled through a full mouth. 

"But there's plenty of proper breakfast food here," insisted her mother. "I can do some back bacon – I know you like it best."

"I don't want any kind of bacon," called out Ginny as she darted past her mother and towards the kitchen fire. 

Harry caught her eye and gave her a sympathetic wink. Rolling her eyes as she tossed a handful of Floo Powder at the flames, Ginny turned, waved at her family and hopped into the fire while calling out "Diagon Alley!" 

**

Although spared the chaos of a Weasley family breakfast, Ron suffered his own rude awakening when he dragged himself out of bed that morning.

"AAARGH!" He had stepped on something cold and squishy.

"What is it?" murmured a still-drowsy Hermione. "A spider?"

Ron was now wide awake. "Damn it Hermione! That cat of yours has been sick on my slippers!"

At the mention of Crookshanks, Hermione sat up. "Sick? Where is he? Where's my little boy?" she crooned and was rewarded by Crookshanks jumping up next to her. "He's not as young as he used to be," she reminded. "We have to be nice to him."

"That cat hates me," Ron swore, dabbing at his bare foot with a tissue. "Always has."

Hermione leaned across the bed and peered down. "It's just a hairball, Ron. All cats get them."

"Maybe so, but does he always have to deposit it on _my_ side of the bed?" Thoroughly disgusted, Ron tossed the tissue into the waste-paper bin and stomped off to the shower. 

He and Hermione had only recently moved in together. Hermione had been the one to suggest it, pointing out how much time they spent at each other's places already, and how they might as well get a place together rather than transfer things back and forth all the time. She'd also rejected Ron's suggestion they get married before moving in together, which made him feel a little uneasy. Nobody else in his family had lived with a significant other before marriage and he was frankly surprised by Hermione. But that was one of the best things about her – just when she seemed completely predictable, she did or said something unexpected. Today, however, the initial bliss of cohabitation seemed to be wearing off and reality setting in.

When Ron reappeared, freshly shaven and adjusting his robes, Hermione had pulled on her dressing gown, a pot of tea sat brewing on the kitchen table, and Crookshanks was happily crunching his cat food. "Where's the bread?" Ron asked, opening the pantry.

Hermione glanced up from reading the paper. "In the fridge."

"I thought we agreed to keep it in the pantry."

"No, dear, it gets mouldy that way."

Ron closed the door with a bang. "But I don't like cold bread," he complained petulantly.

"What's the difference? You're just going to toast it anyway, aren't you?"

"I suppose." With a sigh, Ron flicked his wand, sending two slices of bread to the toaster.

"Are you always going to be this grumpy in the morning?" asked Hermione, giving him a dark look over the rim of her mug.

"Sorry." Ron leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Just got a busy week ahead and you know I'm not much of a morning person."

"So we've seen," she commented dryly.

Ron's toast popped up and flew across the kitchen, landing neatly on a plate. Feeling they'd both had their recommended daily allowance of bickering he changed the subject and said, "Harry thinks he saw a ghost this weekend near the Burrow."

"Really?" Hermione put aside the paper and gave Ron her full attention. "A visitor for your family's ghoul, perhaps?"

Ron shook his head and smiled. "Don't think so." He proceeded to describe just what Harry had seen, concluding with "I still think she's a veela. Who else could charm a complete stranger - especially someone like Harry - into helping her hide from St Mungo's mediwizards?"

"Well, there's nothing in the Daily Prophet about an escaped mental patient," pointed out Hermione. "She couldn't have been that dangerous."

"Maybe they're keeping it quiet - don't want to upset people."

"Has he seen her again?" asked Hermione.

"I don't know. I only saw him the one night then I met you for that lovely theatre experience, remember?"

"Yes, and I must admit you were a very good sport once we got there. I'll have to think of a suitable reward for you, apart from the pleasure of knowing you're not a complete philistine." Hermione smiled prettily at him.

Ron felt he'd got off easily on that one and was relieved when Pigwideon appeared at the back window. The tiny owl remained as frenetic as ever and when Ron opened the window Pig barreled over to the table, loaded down with the morning post.

"Here. This one's for you." Ron handed Hermione a thick piece of parchment sealed with an impressive-looking crest.

Hermione opened it, scanned the contents and let out a yelp of surprise.

"I don't believe it!" She turned to Ron, face shining. "I've been invited to give a paper at the European Society of Runic Studies in Dublin next month! They say my interpretation of Old Saxon use of runes in spellcasting has the potential to change the entire field."

"That's great!" Ron picked up the letter and read it too, forgetting about his vague worries over the mysterious stranger. 

Hermione stared again at the letter. "This is so unexpected! I mean, one always hopes for such an honour but it's still so early in my career –"

"You deserve it." Ron kissed her again, then noticed the time. "I'm going to be late!" he cried, dashed for the fireplace and narrowly avoided tripping over Crookshanks. "See you tonight!"

**

After consuming more pork products than he suspected was healthy, Harry had left the Weasleys and now sat in his office, studying the necklace. Taking out his wand, Harry placed it on the engraved silver surface and muttered "_Simulacrus_." Carefully, he removed the wand and touched it to a blank piece of parchment, where a perfect copy of the engraving appeared in black ink. Harry picked up the parchment and stared at the image but still couldn't make anything of it. He opened his office door and called to a passing young trainee.

"Take this over to the Imaging and Interpretation department," Harry instructed, rolling up the parchment and sealing it with a touch of his wand. "Have them notify me once they're finished."

The trainee's eyes widened and his chest visibly swelled. "Right away Mr Potter, sir," he chirped and dashed away.

Harry returned to his desk and sighed. This case was quickly becoming more complicated than he'd anticipated. He'd mentioned the Knockturn Alley incident to a friend in the department regulating Misdeeds of Magical Creatures, but they were already working on it. Apparently there was some dispute over whether the fatal injury was indeed a vampire bite. 

Harry opened the locket again. Sirius had said the thing bit, but Harry had examined it several times without incident. Until now - he jerked back his hand in alarm on feeling something soft and tickling against his palm. Looking down he realized the lock of hair was dancing around on his open hand. "Yeesh." He closed his fingers around the strand and stuffed it back inside. It was one thing to carry a lock of hair in a necklace, but quite another to have enchanted it to dance on a person's hand. Maybe the girl did belong in St Mungo's after all.

**

Squinting against the late afternoon sunshine, Ginny stood on the corner opposite Gringotts and waited for Seamus. On her days off she liked to indulge in her favourite hobby, shopping for vintage wizarding dress robes. Today she wore one of her newest finds – robes circa 1959 in bright yellow with large white polka dots and a matching witch's hat. She'd even found a puffy crinoline, and pointy-toed yellow pumps adorned her feet. 

People began trickling down the massive white stairs and Ginny felt her heart jump as she recognized Seamus. She felt she ought to be beyond the stage of experiencing that little jolt of excitement whenever she saw Seamus but the feeling still came, every time. He hadn't seen her yet and smiling to herself, she watched him navigate the stairs. Once he crossed the street she waved vigorously.

"Good god, Ginny!" he exclaimed on seeing her. "What the bloody hell are you wearing?"

Her smile evaporated. "Don't you like it?"

"Have you completely lost your head?" he demanded, staring at her sunny form. "We're supposed to meet the people from my division for drinks at the Merlin Club."

"I know."

Seamus covered his eyes with one hand and shook his head. "Then _why_ did you wear _that_?'

"I thought it was fun."

"Fun! Gin, this isn't about fun, it's about work! Look at me – look how I'm dressed."

Ginny looked at Seamus' navy robes with charcoal pinstriping. "I can change. I'll just apparate back to the Burrow and –"

"There isn't time!" Seamus sighed. "Look at us!" he repeated. "We don't even look like we –"

"Like we what? Belong together?" asked Ginny in a tight voice. "Is that what you were going to say?" She could feel tears pricking her eyes.

Seeing her expression, Seamus became instantly contrite. "No, Ginny, of course not. I'm sorry. I love your stuff, I do. I'm just a little nervous about tonight that's all."

"I could wear your cloak over my robes," Ginny sniffed.

"No, don't do that," he assured her in a soothing tone. "You wear what you want. You really do look cute." He leaned over and gave her a quick kiss.

"Cute?" Ginny's eyes narrowed.

Ignoring the many passers-by, Seamus wrapped his arms around her and kissed her more seriously. "Did I say cute? I meant to say ravishing," he murmured into her ear. "Sometimes all I can manage to do is breathe when I'm around you. Your body is the most -"

"Okay, that'll do." Ginny cut him off, smiling a little. Even though Seamus said these things with a half-joking air of exaggeration, she knew he meant it. In fact, sometimes she almost felt embarrassed at the extravagance of his love for her, like now. 

Ginny felt a stab of anxiety when they entered the posh Merlin Club, however, and were shown inside the room reserved for the Gringotts group. Everyone else was dressed like Seamus and she felt one dour-looking witch's eyes upon her. Apparently Seamus' division was a lot more conservative than the one her brother Bill worked for. Ginny snatched the first drink to pass her by, conveyed on a floating silver platter that was making its way around the wood-paneled room.

Several people came up to Seamus and chatted but conversations halted as an elderly, dignified goblin entered the room. Ginny didn't need to be told this was Seamus' boss and briefly considered attempting a garment-dying charm to change her outfit to a more demure navy. 

Everyone parted respectfully to let the old goblin through. He pressed hands and murmured words of greeting to each employee, then stopped in front of Ginny.

"Seamus Finnigan!" he cried, clapping a hand on Seamus' shoulder. "Still setting the pace in investments I see."

"Thank you, sir." Seeing the goblin's eyes turn to Ginny's brilliantly yellow outfit, Seamus hastily added, "This is my girlfriend, Ginny Weasley." 

"Of course. Your eldest brother does fine work for us. And I see you share his whimsical sense of style." The goblin smiled and everyone in the room visibly relaxed. "Yes indeed, I appreciate someone who's willing to take risks," he continued and gave Ginny an appraising look. "What's your line of work?"

"I'm with the Ministry, sir - Auror." She braced herself for the inevitable 'what's a pretty girl like you doing in such a dangerous job' line, but it never came. 

Instead the goblin simply nodded and looked resigned. "If you ever take an interest in banking, young lady, let me know." He squeezed her hand and moved on.

Despite winning the goblin's approval for her fashion sense, Ginny was relieved when the gathering ended. The stuffiness of the place put her on edge and it was strange to see Seamus in that kind of setting. A pin-stripe-wearing investment banker wasn't how she viewed him at all, and she regarded his banking persona as a necessary alter ego he adopted for eight hours every day. The Seamus _she_ knew wasn't uptight at all. 

In fact, as soon as they had turned the corner from the Merlin Club, Seamus undid the top fastenings of his robes and shoved back his sleeves. "Feel like going out?" he asked, taking her hand as they walked rapidly along the street.

"Sorry. Big day at work tomorrow."

"Really? What?"

"I was just notified I'm being transferred – a promotion." She couldn't suppress a smile of satisfaction. 

"Why didn't you say anything before?" Seamus demanded. "That's great news! I know how hard you've been working."

"I was going to tell you earlier but I believe your first words to me today were 'What the bloody hell are you wearing?' Hardly conducive to sharing news."

"Okay, point taken." Seamus appeared suitably chagrined and steered them towards his flat. 

Ginny thought Seamus had not only the best flat – roomy and modern in décor – but also the best location in the heart of residential Diagon Alley. Maybe with this promotion she could finally afford to move out on her own.

"So how _do_ witches get their skirts to stick out like that?" inquired Seamus once inside. He reached for Ginny's robes playfully. 

"Maybe if you're lucky I'll show you." Ginny led him over to the sleek leather couch and pushed him flat against it. Seamus reached up and took her hands, and Ginny toppled onto him, laughing. "It's a simple starching charm," she explained, sitting up and pinning him to the couch. "I could demonstrate on your robes if you like."

"Um, no thanks. Plenty of starch already."

Ginny cocked a shapely eyebrow at him. "I think you're right," she murmured and slithered down along his chest. 

Seamus reached for the back of her robes and fumbled with the complicated system of hooks and zips. "Did you hex this thing?" he demanded, deciding he preferred modern, more straightforward robes. 

"No." Ginny smiled, sat up again and reached behind her back, slowly undoing the various fastenings and letting the bright material slide down her shoulders. 

"Much better." Seamus had already cast his own clothes aside and swept Ginny's away as well. 

She moved back to display her seamed stockings, each attached to a delicate suspender-belt. "I looked all over Diagon Alley for these. I hope you appreciate the level of historical accuracy details like this represent. You know, before you denigrate my taste in clothes again," she added.

Seamus sat up for a closer inspection and groaned. "How could I have ever criticised this outfit? I'm sorry."

Ginny placed a manicured nail on Seamus' bare chest and pushed him back down. "No, you're not. But you will be," she added with a wicked little smile.

**

The next morning at work Harry was confronted with a strange new development regarding the girl he'd met near the Burrow. A notice had been circulated among his Auror team informing them of a young woman wearing St Mungo's Hospital robes being seen by at least two wizards in both Diagon and Knockturn Alleys. It further stated St Mungo's denied any escape had occurred, and that a Daily Prophet reporter would be investigating the story. Anyone with information related to the case was asked to report it immediately and to be available for press interviews.

Reflecting on his various interactions with the press over the years made Harry even less inclined to respond to the memo. He certainly didn't think these latest actions would serve the girl's best interests. She was skittish enough as it was - a swarm of press and possible Ministry attention was unlikely to aid in locating her. Harry puzzled over the St Mungo's denial - the men he'd seen that night had worn robes with St Mungo's Hospital written on them. Something was clearly amiss. Just as Harry was sighing over this latest complication, his door burst open in an abrupt manner that could mean only one thing: his director, a short but fierce-looking woman, wanted a word with him. 

Harry knew that part of his job required being able to respond quickly to unexpected situations and was more than ready to deal with a dark wizard ambush, not to mention the vagaries of his boss's temper. However, when his director walked in with Ginny in tow and announced Ms Weasley had just joined their unit on probationary status, Harry responded about as nimbly as if he'd just been hit with the Confundus curse.

Following the announcement that Ginny would be Harry's new partner, the director suggested, "Harry, why don't you take Ginny to the briefing room and catch her up on the current situations we're pursuing?"

Harry nodded and after opening the door for Ginny, followed her silently down the corridor. "Why didn't you say something?" Harry hissed as they gained the privacy of the briefing room.

Ginny shrugged. "I didn't know myself until yesterday. Very secretive lot you work for. And nobody told me I'd be working with _you_."

"Is that so bad?"

Ginny grinned and swung her feet up on the table. "No. In fact, I think it may be pretty good."

The door opened a sliver and they both turned as a thin voice cracked, "Mr Potter?" It was the young trainee.

Harry flicked his wand at the door and it swung all the way open. "Yes?"

"Here's that report from Imaging and Interpretation you asked for." The trainee handed over some parchment, then noticed Ginny. Her feet remained on the polished conference table and her hands were resting behind her head. He looked from Ginny to Harry and after uttering a tiny croak of surprise, scuttled away.

"That's odd. He's supposed to be a real up-and-comer among the trainees. Do you always have that effect on men?" asked Harry, watching the intern hurry down the corridor. With a lazy stroke of his wand, the door locked shut again.

Ginny frowned and removed her feet. "Not often enough, unfortunately. What'd he bring you?"

"Oh, this." Harry tried to appear off-hand. "Nothing. Just a sideline interest." 

"Sideline interest?" Ginny smirked and grabbed for the papers. "Isn't it your job to brief me on your interests?"

"Uh, not this one."

"Oh, come on. Unless you're carrying on an office romance with someone from Imaging and Interpretation?"

"Of course not! That sort of thing is really frowned upon," Harry looked shocked.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Relax. Joke."

"If you must know, it's to do with that girl I told you about a few weeks ago. Sirius found a locket of hers and neither of us could figure out what the engraving on it meant."

"So let's see what it means." Ginny gestured to the parchment. When Harry still hesitated she said, "You know, you're sounding awfully like Percy all of a sudden."

Her words had the desired effect and Harry undid the scrolls. While he hunched over them, Ginny sighed and popped a piece of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum into her mouth. 

"What's it say?" she asked, snapping her bubble gum.

Harry gave a short laugh and shoved the parchment towards her. "Not much. They've sent it out to an expert for further study."

Ginny laughed as she read the note. "Hermione! Is that girl ever going to stop helping you with your homework?" 

But Harry wasn't laughing. "Take a look at this," he said and handed her the notice he'd received earlier.

Ginny scanned the document and looked back at Harry. "What are you going to tell them?"

"Nothing. And I was hoping you might, er, avoid saying anything about her being seen so near the Burrow." Harry's face grew anxious and he spoke rapidly. "I know this puts you in an awkward position. But assuming the Daily Prophet runs a story we'll be flooded with false reports, people thinking they've seen her, that sort of thing. No help at all."

"So what you going to do?" Ginny asked.

"_We_ are going to try to find her before the story breaks. I just need a little time - once this goes public my guess is she'll go even further underground and we might never find her." He frowned and looked again at the notice.

"Why do you care so much?" 

Harry shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted. "But something odd is going on - why would St Mungo's deny an escape? If those weren't hospital employees I saw, who were they? She said someone had harmed her…if I make an official report of my sighting I can't help feeling I'll be harming her too, somehow."

Ginny had been blowing an enormous bubble while he spoke. She now popped it and said with a smile, "Well, you _are_ my supervisor for the next three months. And you know how many things get shoved at you when starting a new job - I'm sure I'll be much too busy today to read all the parchment stuffed in my box, let alone talk to any reporters."

"Thanks." Harry looked relieved. "I wouldn't usually ask but -"

"You want to find her before someone else does," Ginny finished for him. "Don't worry, Harry. I trust your judgement."

**

The next evening found Ron, Harry, and Seamus seated around a pub table, rehashing the midweek Quidditch match they'd just come from. 

"Ever wish you'd gone the Quidditch route instead of Auror?" Seamus asked Harry.

"Sometimes," Harry admitted. "But it never really felt like a choice, what with everything that was going on our last year at school."

They all nodded and Seamus regretted having brought up any reference to the events of their final year at Hogwarts, the year Dumbledore had been killed. 

Ron quickly changed the topic. "So what's happening with that blond you told me about?"

"Who's this?" asked Seamus, turning to Harry with an amused smile. 

"Nobody," muttered Harry, glancing around to see if anyone had overheard.

But Ron continued, grinning broadly. "Last time Harry came to visit the Burrow he ran into a damsel in distress. Or thinks he did - reckon she's a ghost or just a figment of your imagination?"

"She's real enough," answered Harry. "Sirius found some jewelry she sold to Borgin and Burkes. Supposed to hold dark magic. I'm having the engravings checked out. And listen, I'd appreciate it if you could keep this between us." 

Seamus whistled. "Is she that dangerous, then?"

Harry shook his head in an aggravated way. "No. I've examined the necklace. It doesn't seem harmful. For some reason I just don't think she's evil."

"Right. There's just something about her," Ron said. "That irresistible way she has of vanishing in the middle of a conversation. Nothing like a temperamental female ghost." 

"I know it sounds stupid, but if you'd seen her –"

"Go on, Harry," interrupted Seamus. "You hardly need to be chasing after ghosts or witches involved in the Dark Arts when you could get just about any woman to go out with you. Or maybe you're so interested in her _because_ she's a ghost? Hear they don't photograph very well – could be a clever way to avoid the paparazzi."

"I'm serious." Harry scowled at both of his friends.

"Seamus is right," declared Ron. "It's too easy to get wrapped up in some stranger – you don't know anything about her so you can make her out to be as perfect as you want," he added in a rare moment of insight.

"Yeah, for all you know she's a nutter. Get her alone in a room and it'll just be 'My mother! My sister! My mother! My sister!'" advised Seamus.

Puzzled, Ron looked from Harry to Seamus.

"Muggle joke," explained Seamus. "Faye Dunaway and - oh, never mind."

Harry swallowed the last of his beer and looked warningly at Ron and Seamus. "Just don't start about some nice girl I have to meet - I get enough of that from Sirius and Ron's mum."

Seamus smirked at Ron and said, "Who said anything about nice girls?"

**

That night, while Seamus teased Harry and while Hermione worked late interpreting the complicated figures the Auror office had sent to her, the necklace's former owner found herself drawn back to Borgin and Burks. She recalled the first time she had ever felt the pendant's weight around her neck and the sudden surge of power she had experienced. Supposedly the thing brought good luck or something like that – she couldn't quite remember. When she'd first wandered into Borgin's shop, she'd felt lucky when he agreed to buy it. Now she rather regretted selling the piece; she found herself constantly reaching up to touch it, only to be reminded the silver disk no longer hung from her neck.

"You again," said Borgin when she pushed through the door. "Come to try selling me another cheap trinket?"

"I just wanted to look at my necklace."

"I'm afraid that's not possible."

She took a step forward and peered past him towards the glass case. "Why not?"

He snorted. "For one thing, it's not yours anymore and for another, I don't have it. Someone's bought it." He noted with satisfaction that her face looked even more pale, if possible, at this news.

"Bought it?" she repeated.

"Yes. So unless you have some business with me, I suggest you get out of my shop."

Her grey eyes narrowed with anger and she took another step forward. "One of these days you're going to wish you'd treated me better," she said quietly. 

"I seriously doubt that. You seem to confuse me with someone with a conscience. Now get out of my shop! It's loiterers like you who drive off my better business." 

Despite her angry words, the girl jumped at Borgin's raised voice and with an unhappy glance back at the place once occupied by her necklace, she turned and ran out the door.

Borgin watched her go, then yanked open a thin drawer and pulled out parchment and a quill. Maybe the girl hadn't anything to sell him today but he knew at least one person who might be interested in buying further information about her. Borgin quickly penned his message, rolled it up and summoned a mangy-looking owl. "Take this to Sirius Black," he ordered.

**

Having spent the previous day and much of the night examining the engravings Harry's office had sent her, Hermione paid a visit to the Auror building the next morning. She sat at the polished oak table and spread out numerous rolls of parchment and several reference books. 

"Where did you find this engraving?" she asked Harry, while Ginny looked on interestedly.

"From this necklace." Harry dug in his pocket and handed the locket to Hermione. She eagerly examined it and as she did so, Harry told her what he knew of it – and its owner's – history. 

Hermione nodded. "Ron did mention you'd seen someone on your way to the Burrow recently." 

Harry pointed at Hermione's notes. "So what does it all mean?"

Frowning, Hermione placed the pendant in front of her on the table. "I wish I'd known this was from a talisman," she said and pulled her notes to her. "Would have saved me a bit of time last night."

"A talisman? What are you talking about?" said Harry in surprise.

But Hermione was already leafing through both her notes and her reference guides. "Part of the reason it took me so long is you sent me something written in bind-rune, which can be extremely difficult to interpret accurately unless you have some sense of the original author's intentions. It seems to be a kind of protection spell and if you found this on a talisman, then it makes a lot more sense."

Ginny and Harry turned puzzled glances to Hermione. "How does it make sense?" Ginny finally asked. 

Hermione eyed the locket with concern. "Harry, you need to find who owns this. Whoever made it placed an extremely powerful array of protective magic around the talisman, which makes me think its owner is probably in a lot of danger right now without it."

She turned to look at him. "Tell me again – was the girl actually wearing this when you saw her?"

"I don't know. We didn't exactly have a leisurely conversation." Harry reached irritably for the pendant.

"Careful," warned Hermione. 

"Of what? I've been carrying it around ever since Sirius brought it back."

"Have you?" Hermione shrugged. "That's interesting."

Ginny picked her head up from the conference table and yawned. "It is?"

"Come to think of it," started Harry, "Sirius did tell me Borgin claimed it snapped at him. Maybe it senses Dark Magic?"

Hermione looked unconvinced. "Maybe. More likely it knows who it belongs to."

"So why didn't it bite me?"

"It seems to think tickling you with hair is a better repellant," smirked Hermione.

Remembering that particular sensation, Harry quickly snapped the face shut. "So is this thing…alive?"

"Like I said before, it's animated with an extraordinary amount of magical energy," said Hermione. "I'd be very interested to meet whoever had the power to create it. You don't see many inscriptions like that these days." Hermione began gathering up her things. "Mind if I keep this copy of the runes?"

"Sure." They all stood up. Harry and Ginny walked Hermione back to the main reception area. "Thanks for coming by," said Harry, opening the front door for Hermione.

"My pleasure. Let me know if you find any other developments on that talisman."

When Harry arrived back at his office, the first thing he noticed was Sirius' head in his fireplace. 

"Finally," said Sirius. "I've been holding ages for you."

"Sorry. Just saw Hermione about that locket. Turns out it's some kind of runic protection spell. She seemed to think its owner could be in danger without it."

Sirius' expression turned alarmed. "I think she's right. Last night I got an owl from Borgin. He says the girl was back in his shop and if I want to know more he'll be happy to owl me the details for a small sum."

Harry snorted. "Optimistic bugger, isn't he?"

"Strangely, yes."

"Let me go and see him this time. If he's bought anything else from her I'd like to get it checked out right away. According to Hermione that locket is infused with powerful magic. I'd hate to see anything else like that fall into the hands of Borgin's more typical customers." Harry paused, then mentioned the likelihood of a Daily Prophet story and Ministry requests for related information. "You'll keep this quiet, right?"

Sirius laughed. "You have to ask? The last thing I want to do is talk to any Ministry officials. Besides," he added with a wry grin, "I'm reporting my knowledge to an Auror. Isn't that enough?"

"Yeah. Thanks Sirius." Harry smiled at his godfather's face in the fire.

Sirius nodded; his image flickered and then disappeared. Harry grabbed his wand and headed for Ginny's office, where she was using her wand to try to send a toy quaffle through one of the small plastic hoops hovering near her ceiling.

"Come on," Harry said, ducking to avoid a poorly-aimed quaffle. "I've got a lead on that girl – seems she recently paid a visit to Borgin and Burks again. Thought you might want a little experience in interrogating unpleasant wizards."

Looking remarkably like her twin brothers George and Fred, Ginny grinned and stood up. "Excellent."

****

Will Harry end up with a girl or a ghost, a vampire or a veela? Will Seamus ever dare disrespect his girlfriend's outfit again? And most importantly, will Ron convince Hermione to feed Crookshanks cat food that prevents hairballs? All this and more next time…


	3. Vicissitudes

A/N: When we last left Harry, he was hot on the trail of the mystery woman he saw on the way to the Weasleys. And I promise, by the end of this chapter he'll finally meet her... Thanks to those of you who've patiently waded through the first sections to get to this point.

Superlatives fail me to adequately thank my beta-reader Wotan, but suffice it to say I'm once again in his debt!

CHERCHEZ LA FEMME 3: Vicissitudes

The routine questioning of Mr Borgin wasn't going at all as Harry had planned. Borgin refused to answer any of their questions and so far Ginny had transfigured several shop items into rats by way of retaliation. Borgin turned livid with rage as he watched his former merchandise scurry away. 

"Why don't you just answer my colleague's question?" Ginny asked in a bored manner as she stalked around the small shop, idly inspecting various pieces.

Borgin kept his eyes on her wand, which now veered near one of his new acquisitions. "I don't have to answer anything. For your information I fully intend to lodge a complaint with the Ministry for your reckless and abusive treatment of an innocent citizen." 

"Innocent?" Ginny paused in her motions and flicked her eyes coolly up and down at Borgin's cheaply tailored robes. "I doubt your own mother ever called you innocent."

Sweating, Mr Borgin lunged out of the line of fire and attempted to hide behind the counter. Just as swiftly, Ginny aimed for the quill that hovered near Borgin's till - "_Incendio_!"A jet of flame shot from her wand straight for the quill. Harry braced himself for another scene of destruction yet Ginny halted the spell at the last possible second and turned again to Borgin. "I am always in perfect control," she hissed. "But give me a reason and I won't be so careful next time."

She turned on her heel and the door banged shut behind her. Harry glanced at the nervous proprietor. "We'll be back," he said, annoyed that Ginny's amazing display had left him unable to think of something more threatening to say, then hastened after Ginny.

"Who was your mentor at the Auror's Institute - Mad Eye Moody?" he demanded once outside. "You just broke almost every rule we have, and you're not even close to being off probation yet!"

A smile came to Ginny's face. "Mad Eye? What makes you say that?"

But Harry refused to be amused. "You share an eerily similar style. You both shoot from the hip, for one thing, and seem to have little regard for established procedure."

"Whereas you, of course, are known for your love of rules. Now tell me again - why didn't we respond promptly to that departmental memo?"

"That was different."

Ginny stopped walking and snapped, "Yes, it's always different for you, isn't it?" 

Harry glared at her for a moment before his features relaxed and he said gruffly, "You were really good in there. You do have amazing control of your spells, I'll give you that. You're just - " he shook his head "- different to how I remembered you. I never really thought of you as being tough like that."

Ginny stared back. "I know." Then she turned and resumed walking. "I did grow up with six brothers, two of whom are George and Fred. You learn a few things, being the youngest."

After instructing Ginny to check out some other places in Knockturn Alley, Harry returned to the office and owled Cho Chang, asking to meet her later in the week.

**

Harry hadn't seen Cho in several years, but regularly heard her on Wizards Wireless Network, where she worked as a news presenter. Although the Daily Prophet journalists had come up with little more than conjecture and the increasingly sensational stories reported by various members of the magical community, he hoped Cho might have heard something that might give him a clue as to the girl's identity. 

He looked up from his seat as Cho entered the café. Just as she had in their schooldays, Cho had the effect of making people stop and look twice when she entered a room. It wasn't just her beauty but her presence, so intense it could fill a small room all on its own.

"Hi, Cho. Thanks for meeting me." Harry drew out a chair for her.

"Good to see you again." Cho smiled at him. "How've you been?"

"Oh, you know ..." Harry gestured with his hands and trailed off. He never knew quite how to answer that question, given his line of work. "Fine," he said at last. 

Cho looked at him with amusement. "That good, eh? What have they got you working on now?"

"Crime syndicates, preventing world domination by evil forces, the usual."

"I see you still have your flair for small talk," Cho observed. She studied the menu. "Hungry?"

Harry shrugged. "Not terribly." He glanced at his watch; it was three o'clock, hardly lunchtime.

"Watching your girlish figure? Well, I'm starving - I don't keep very regular hours," Cho announced and when the waiter came by she ordered a triple-decker sandwich.

"So what did you want to talk to me about?" she asked, munching with gusto once her sandwich arrived. 

"I suppose you saw the headlines earlier this week - _Mysteries of St Mungo's_? I'm trying to find that girl." He quickly explained his encounter with the mystery woman weeks ago, and how his attempts at tracking her had all failed.

"I did read about that. Maybe she's a pontianak," smiled Cho, sipping her drink.

"A what?"

"Pontianak. It's a specific kind of female vampire. Women who've been seduced and abandoned by men come back to haunt them, live off their blood. The particularly vengeful ones lure the men to their deaths." When she noticed Harry looking askance at her she added, "My grandmother said when she was a girl people saw them all the time."

"She did seem upset," Harry admitted.

Cho grinned. "I hope you haven't broken some girl's heart. She could be after you."

"Not even a chance." Harry frowned. "So what else do you know about these pontianaks?"

Cho shrugged. "Not much. Some of them just live as ghosts and don't do the blood-sucking thing. Prefer to haunt the guy and make his life a living hell. What else...they can turn into owls -" she was about to continue but Harry cut her off.

"They can what?"

"Owls. They can turn into owls. Why? Did you also see an owl that night?" Her playful expression turned to more genuine concern.

"No." Harry slowly shook his head. "But I heard one, right before she appeared. And her hand was ice-cold, just like a ghost." 

"Why would someone haunt you?"

"Not me. She said someone had treated her badly, someone in London, I think. She was desperate to get here."

"But you also said she'd escaped from St Mungo's. My grandmother never said anything about pontianaks being held captive in asylums. They pretty much roam as they please."

Harry remained silent for a moment. Was it possible he'd met a ghost, or a vampire? She hadn't seemed evil, and Harry had seen more than his share of evil creatures, human or otherwise. "Well, thanks for the information," he said at last, making himself smile at Cho. "I guess I'll have to take my chances with her."

But Cho wasn't as amused. "Seriously, Harry. If she is a pontianak -"

"Don't worry about it. Really." He placed a friendly hand on her arm. "And if you could avoid mentioning your pontianak theory to anyone the entire Auror division will be in your debt. All we need now are more sensational headlines."

Cho gave a philosophical shrug. "Don't worry about it. You're lucky to have caught me in town. I'm about to go on assignment to cover the warlock convention in Prague. Big topic is whether they'll support the push for membership in the Magical Union."

"I'll listen for it on the Wireless news."

"I should hope so." Cho picked up her bag and shot a sly smile at Harry. "You know, Lavender Brown works for Wizards Wireless, too, now."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, has the Lonely Hearts Chat. I'll tell her I saw you." Cho stood up and Harry followed suit.

"Erm, thanks." Harry blushed despite himself. The last thing he needed or wanted was advice from Lavender. He wondered if she giggled every time she dispensed a piece of love wisdom to her listeners. "It was good seeing you again, Cho. Take care."

She gave him a quick hug. "Thanks. You too." 

Harry watched her walk down the street and turn the corner, but he remained near the doorway, thinking. He didn't know anything about these creatures Cho had described, but he knew someone who would. Pulling on his cloak, Harry strode purposefully out the door and towards the Institute for Runic Studies.

**

Long shadows fell across the pavements as Harry crossed Russell Square. A few brittle leaves blew by in the stiff winter breeze and Muggles wielding mobile phones marched past. Harry hurried to the massive complex that was the British Museum, but instead of heading for the ticket desks presented himself at an unseen entrance near the illuminated manuscripts. He flashed his wizard reading card and the elderly attendant nodded him in. 

Harry muttered a password to a statue and the seemingly solid wall shimmered, allowing him to pass through it. Behind were the labyrinth offices of Runic Studies. 

"Can I help you, young man?" Harry glanced down and beheld a slightly hump-backed, intimidating-looking older witch. 

"I'm here to see Hermione Granger."

The witch scowled up at him. "Do you have an appointment?"

"What? Er, no. Just tell her my name. She'll see me." Harry smiled what he hoped was a charming smile.

"Can't let you in without an appointment." The elderly witch had already turned around and began walking away.

"Wait!" Harry jumped after her. "It's important I see her."

"Ms Granger does not like to be disturbed."

"Look, could you please just tell her Harry Potter is here to see her? We're old friends -"

The witch interrupted him. "Harry Potter?" She inspected him more closely. "Why didn't you say so in the first place?" Still muttering to herself, the plump witch waddled back towards the offices, indicating that Harry should follow.

He walked with her down a narrow corridor. At the third door, the old woman paused, turned the knob and leaned inside. "Harry Potter to see you, miss."

"Thank you, Miss Throckmorton." Harry heard Hermione's voice but couldn't see her until the door swung open wider.

"This is a surprise!" Hermione put down her quill and stood up. Her eyes looked a little bloodshot from hours of reading, but a big smile filled her face. "What brings you here?"

"Got a minute?" asked Harry.

Hermione glanced at her watch. "Actually, it's almost time to go home. Not that I usually leave on time, but seeing as it's you. . .."

"Thanks." Harry reached over and plucked her winter cloak from the hook on the door. "Ready?"

"Just give me a minute to finish up." Hermione sat down again and resumed her writing. Harry used the time to glance around the office. Unsurprisingly it was piled high with books, most of them neatly arranged on shelves that reached to the ceiling. A large stack sat at Hermione's desk and he noticed her in-tray was overflowing with parchment. Some things never changed.

"Okay." With a flourish, Hermione rolled up the scroll and locked it in her desk drawer. "Ready."

Harry helped her into the cloak and the two of them walked down the corridor together and past the front desk. "Goodnight," said Hermione to her secretary and to the elderly wizard at the main desk. 

"Early night for you," commented the man, smiling at Harry.

"It's Harry Potter," rasped the old witch behind him. 

"Oh?" The man's white eyebrows went up. "So it is, Miss Throckmorton, so it is."

With a rueful smile, Hermione took Harry's arm and they pushed through the wall, back out into the Museum. 

"There's a tea shop around the corner from here," said Hermione, leading the way. 

"Fine." When they were settled and had a pot of tea brewing between them, Harry explained what Cho had told him. "Do you know anything about these creatures?" He concluded. "And do you think our mystery woman could be one?"

Hermione looked thoughtful. "I've heard of the pontianak_,_ yes. But I haven't heard of one being sighted in Britain recently. They're more common in Asia, the Malaysian peninsula to be exact. As for one appearing here - an interesting post-colonial legacy. You said when this girl touched you she was cold, but solid?"

"Yes. If she's a ghost, she's the most solid one I've ever met."

"Hmm. But vampires can be solid. And you did see her at night. If she could change shape, it would explain why she just seemed to appear out of nowhere, and how she could vanish without a trace."

"That's true." It didn't explain why she would have been at St Mungo's, but maybe she had been haunting that place as well. Somehow, Harry didn't feel very relieved at the prospect of figuring out at least part of the woman's identity. Pontianaks didn't sound like very happy souls.

"So how do you catch them?" he asked.

Hermione poured them both some steaming tea. "That part's easy. Just find whoever wronged her. She'll be nearby."

"Easy? Hermione, there are millions of people in London. How am I going to find the one man who crossed her?"

"Well, you come across a lot of unsavoury types in your work. Make a list. Who's treated some poor girl horribly and thought he got away with it?"

"That's hardly going to narrow the field."

"Do some research, then. See if any cases were reported in the news about a bad breakup, a girl getting killed. You said she's about our age?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah."

"Personally, I'd put Malfoy at the top of my list. If I recall correctly he had quite a reputation as heart-breaker, but wasn't his whole family bundled off somewhere after all those Death Eater trials?"

Harry made a face. Being unable to send Lucius Malfoy to Azkaban was a lingering source of frustration to him. "Yeah, his parents are in a witness protection programme. Supposed to be getting new identities in exchange for giving evidence to the Ministry to prosecute other Death Eaters."

Hermione couldn't suppress a smile. "Sounds quite a job, trying to give Lucius Malfoy a new personality and identity that will allow him to blend with the rest of society."

"This is going to take forever," groaned Harry, wishing he'd asked Cho if the news bureau had come across any particularly sensational murder cases lately. The prospect of searching through not just wizard news but possibly Muggle papers as well seemed daunting. "And if she is this...this thing, why would she need to wear that talisman?"

"Maybe she wasn't the one wearing it. Maybe she took it off the man she was haunting. If anyone would need a protection spell, it would be someone haunted by a powerful ghost or vampire. And believe me, pontianaks always get their man."

Harry had been looking aggravated but at this he grinned and said, "Sure you're not confusing them with the Canadian Mounties?"

"Be serious. This girl could be really dangerous. If she thinks you're trying to get in her way who knows what she might do?"

"I think I know how to handle an aggressive supernatural force. You sound like Cho, worrying about this pontianak girl. I have had a few years' practice dealing with the dark side, you know."

Hermione scowled. "Yes, I know, but you've also had more than a few close calls. Now think, is there anything else you know about her that would help us?"

Harry ran through his scanty information. "Everything's been a dead-end, right from the start. Sirius couldn't even ask about her at the Cleland Arms because -" He broke off and stared at Hermione in excitement. "That's it! Sirius never got to ask about her there because a vampire had just bitten some guy upstairs. Maybe that was the one she was looking for! She could have killed him first, _then_ gone to Borgin," he added, thinking aloud.

"Harry, I think you'd better call in someone from the Misdeeds of Magical Creatures division. They're the vampire experts."

"But if she already killed him, why is she still roaming around?" Harry continued, ignoring Hermione's advice.

She snorted. "If she once worked at the Cleland Arms she's probably got a very long list of men she'd like to kill. Sounds like you should just hang out there for a while, see if she turns up."

"Good idea." Harry smiled across the small table at her. "We've always made a pretty good team, haven't we? Sure I can't tempt you away from the Institute?"

"Positive." Hermione placed a hand on Harry's arm. "You have your specialties, I have mine."

Harry glanced down at her hand. "So how's it working out for you, living in sin with Ron?" 

Suddenly self-conscious, Hermione placed her hand in her lap but smiled at Harry's teasing. "It's fine. He's really quite trainable. Are you," she paused for a moment, "seeing anyone?"

"Nope. But Cho did happen to mention Lavender Brown is in town now." Harry tried to make his voice light, but if there was one person with whom he didn't want to discuss his private life it was Hermione. Even though it had been several years since their relationship ended, he hadn't dated anyone seriously since her. When he saw her with Ron, Harry sometimes wondered why he'd ever thought their relationship would work. But at times like this, when they worked out a problem together so effortlessly, he remembered how it once had been. 

Hermione changed the subject. "Did I tell you I'm going to Dublin next week? I'm giving a talk at the European Society of Runic Studies conference." 

She spoke rapidly. Bringing up their relationship made her uneasy, too. She'd never felt things would work out between herself and Harry, yet there had always been a strange, strong pull between them. 

"Really? No wonder you're not interested in risking life and limb going after the more criminal members of our community," Harry replied. "There aren't any Auror conferences but it sounds a much better way to make a living, giving talks and getting all-expenses paid holidays."

Hermione pulled a face. "It's only one talk. And it's not all-expenses paid and it's really hardly a holiday - this is work. A lot of important scholars will be there, people who are much more established than I am. It's a little nerve-wracking to tell you the truth."

"I have complete confidence in you."

"Thanks." The two of them sat smiling at each other for a moment, then Hermione dropped her eyes and fumbled with her things. "I'd better go," she said, standing up. "I'll owl you when I'm back from the conference."

**

Hermione faced the gallery of people and glanced again at her pages of parchment. She hadn't expected such a big turnout for her talk, which was only one of many at the conference. She recognised several famous faces in the crowd, Rune scholars whose work she had cited in her paper, and hoped they'd approve of her interpretations. The moderator indicated it was time to begin and Hermione touched her wand to her throat and said "_Sonorus_" before beginning to read.

Following an involved question and answer session, Hermione at last made her way out of the meeting room. Before she had got past the doorway, however, she heard a familiar voice saying, "Miss Granger, could I have a word?"

Hermione turned and saw Minerva McGonagall, now Headmistress of Hogwarts. She appeared older than Hermione remembered her, but her face had an expression that was very familiar: one of restrained pleasure over Hermione's accomplishment.

"Of course, Professor. I didn't know you were coming to this meeting." Hermione squeezed past several wizards and out into the courtyard.

"Yes. I came specially to hear your paper. Clearly, I am not the only one who is impressed with your work." Professor McGonagall gestured to the dispersing crowd. "I had another purpose in coming to see you, however."

"Oh?" Hermione followed her former teacher through the corridors of the castle being used for the meeting and over to a quiet bench, where they both took a seat.

"You may have heard there will be a vacancy at Hogwarts next year in Ancient Runes." Professor McGonagall looked at Hermione, who shook her head. "Your name was suggested by several people as a possible replacement and after today's performance, I am sure the school would be even more delighted to have you."

"You're offering me a job? At Hogwarts?" Hermione blinked, trying to absorb this unexpected development. "But...don't they usually like teachers with a bit more, er, experience?" she asked delicately. Now she thought about it, she couldn't remember any teacher as young as herself.

Professor McGonagall smiled, as if guessing Hermione's thoughts. "Yes, ordinarily members of staff come to us after many years of work in their areas of specialty. But you always were a bit precocious, Miss Granger."

"I don't know what to say. Could I have some time to think it over?"

Professor McGonagall stood up. "Of course. I don't expect you to answer immediately. As I've said, the job wouldn't begin until the coming autumn. The salary is unremarkable, but you would have access to the finest library outside of the Runic Institute. And there are some younger staff members - I'm sure you know that Charlie Weasley is teaching Care of Magical Creatures now, and serving as Head of Gryffindor House. You may wish to speak to him if you have further questions. I, of course, am always available to you."

"Thank you. I'll definitely consider it. I just need to -" Hermione felt herself blush as she continued, "talk it over with Ron as well."

Professor McGonagall nodded. "Yes, I imagine you would want to do that. Pleasure to see you again." She held out her hand in an oddly formal way, and Hermione shook it. Watching her teacher walk away, Hermione wondered if she should have made more small talk, asked how Minerva liked being Headmistress, that sort of thing. But the unexpected offer had left her rather speechless, a condition Hermione rarely experienced.

Hermione had to admit part of her had always fancied the idea of teaching at Hogwarts. However, she enjoyed working at the Runic Institute, where she had uninterrupted research time. Going to Hogwarts would mean giving up a large part of that research, as teaching and other duties would require most of her energy. 

Then there was Ron. Despite the fact that one of his brothers was at Hogwarts, Hermione suspected Ron would not be excited about the prospect of moving to Hogsmeade. He'd done a lot of work in the post-Voldemort trials, prosecuting dark wizards, and she knew the work meant a lot to him. Life in Hogsmeade was unlikely to offer such challenges. 

And strangely, Hermione found her thoughts drifting towards Harry. If she and Ron moved to Hogsmeade, it would mark the first time the three of them had really been apart since starting school together fourteen years ago. With the exception of school holidays they'd been in each other's constant company - even after leaving Hogwarts. As she tried to picture herself teaching there, Hermione found it difficult to imagine her life without Harry nearby. 

**

According to the thorough verbal report Ginny gave Harry, several people in Knockturn Alley had seen someone who matched the blonde's description hanging around Pander's Casino. 

"And here are my notes," she finished, dropping the scrap of parchment on Harry's desk and heading for the door.

"Where are you off to so quickly?" Harry asked.

Ginny rolled her eyes before answering, "It _is_ after six - Seamus is coming over to see my new place. It looks much improved from when you guys helped me move in. Besides, " she added with a grin, "I thought you told me you were going to get a social life. Running down leads doesn't count. Why don't you come over, too?"

"Thanks but running down leads, as you say, is as social as I'm going to get this weekend. Tell Seamus hello," smiled Harry and waved goodbye.

After she had gone, Harry studied Ginny's notes more carefully. Given the increasing media attention and corresponding pressure from the Ministry to find this woman, Harry was reluctant to waste any more time on dead-ends. He stuffed the notes into his pocket, threw on his winter cloak and headed outside. Ginny had a good nose for the truth, but before venturing to any casinos Harry planned to pay a visit elsewhere that evening.

Harry never enjoyed visiting Malcolm Baddock. Blond and insolent, he reminded Harry of a slightly younger version of Draco Malfoy and it was no secret their families had been close. Until Mr Baddock was sent to Azkaban thanks to Lucius Malfoy's information, that is. The Baddocks had lost everything but Malcolm had succeeded in earning back a great deal of that lost wealth, all the while managing to stay just this side of the law. If you needed to know the dirt on someone, Malcolm Baddock was the person to ask, and Harry knew he was not the only one to pay for Malcolm's information. 

"Evening, Potter," drawled Malcolm on answering Harry's knock. 

Without waiting for an invitation, Harry swept past Malcolm and seated himself inside. "I'm here about a girl," he began. "The one who's gone missing from St Mungo's." He ran over Ginny's information and looked to Malcolm for confirmation. "What do you know? Has she been at the casino?"

Malcolm's mouth moved upwards in what - on other people - might approximate a smile. On him it looked more like a grimace or at best a smirk. "What's it worth to you?"

Harry sighed and they began the familiar wrangling process over price. 

"Must give you a fairly decent slush fund over at the Auror offices," commented Malcolm as he pocketed a small mound of Galleons. "Now about this girl. You'll find her at Pander's all right. Assuming they haven't tried to collect yet. Last I heard she had run up quite a tab. Better hope she hits the jackpot soon, Potter, or there won't be much for you to find."

"Thanks," grunted Harry and quickly stood up.

"Sure I can't tempt you to stay? I have some lovely single-malt you might enjoy," offered Malcolm.

"Good night, Malcolm," muttered Harry, already out the door.

**

"Hogwarts? You want to move to Hogwarts?" Ron stared at Hermione.

"I didn't say I wanted to move there, just that Professor McGonagall offered me a job." Hermione studied Ron, trying to read his face. 

"Wow." He sat down on the sofa and shook his head. "But you're thinking about it."

"Yes. I used to think I really wanted to teach there, but it always seemed like something that wouldn't happen until so far in the future it wasn't worth contemplating."

"Charlie's there." Ron stood up again and paced back and forth.

"I know. We'd be the youngest staff members." 

Ron stopped and faced Hermione. "Would you have to live in the castle?"

"No. She said some of the teachers have homes in Hogsmeade. And if you went with me," Hermione blushed, "I think that's what we'd want to do, get a place in town."

"Do you want me to go with you?"

"Ron! Of course I do." Hermione gave him an exasperated look. "But I realise it probably doesn't have much appeal for you, setting up an office in Hogsmeade, not after the kind of work you've done here. But maybe you could commute?" she asked hopefully.

"Maybe. Kind of long, though. Wouldn't be very convenient." He paced again, slower this time. "I never thought about setting up my own firm."

"We don't have to decide right away," Hermione told him. "It's a big decision."

Ron finally sat down. "But you want to go, don't you?"

"Offers like this don't come along very often," Hermione admitted. "Except for Defence Against the Dark Arts specialists."

Ron put an arm around Hermione and drew her head to his shoulder. "Next thing you know they'll hire Ginny for that post."

Hermione smiled. "Or Harry. That would be fun. Almost like old times."

"Yeah." Ron pulled her closer and kissed her through her thick hair. "As long as you're not talking about the old times involving only you and Harry."

"Ron! Honestly, you're the most jealous person I've ever met," protested Hermione. 

"No, I'm not."

"You are." She pulled back a little and looked at him, the corners of her mouth twitching in a way that suggested she didn't really mind. "Remember how awful you were about Viktor Krum? And those stupid fights you had with Harry when he and I were dating - don't tell me you're not jealous."

"Oh yeah, Vicky." Ron laughed. 

Hermione hooked one of her legs across Ron's lap and stretched back on the sofa. "Funny how things turn out."

"Yeah." Ron stroked her bare leg. "You must be cold, wearing only a nightgown," he said, giving her a look that - thanks to her years of association with Ron - Hermione was able to interpret as being suggestive.

She burst out laughing. Ron had never been very good at come-ons. "Why don't you just say you can't resist me?" she teased.

"Only trying to keep the romance alive."

Hermione withdrew her leg and sat up. Running her own hand up Ron's thigh she remarked, "It seems to be alive."

Ron jumped as her hand progressed further. ""Hermione! What's got into you tonight?"

Ignoring him, Hermione murmured, "Aren't you worried I'll catch a chill? Or is my well-being no longer of importance to you?"

Grinning, Ron took her hand and led her to their bedroom. They fell onto the bed together, much to Crookshanks' irritation at being disturbed so rudely from his sleep. Ears flattened, he gave a look of disgust that was completely lost on them and jumped off the bed, just avoiding Hermione's nightgown as it slithered to the floor. Twitching his tail in annoyance, the ginger cat trotted from the room.

**

After paying off Malcolm, Harry continued his investigation - alone. Ordinarily he would have brought Ginny, but after her display in Borgin and Burks he didn't want to risk bringing such a volatile presence into the casino. Goblins didn't react well to damage to their property and Harry didn't fancy taking on the security trolls who were sure to appear the first time Ginny tried to transfigure so much as a pair of dice. Besides, he still felt oddly protective of her despite their heated exchange earlier. Intellectually, he knew she could more than take care of herself but part of him still hesitated to bring her along to Pander's, and he knew this hesitation stemmed from more than simply a desire to avoid another display of Ginny-induced pyrotechnics. He just didn't want her to see places like the casino or meet people like Malcolm Baddock - at least, not until she absolutely had to.

A number of regulars stared when Harry entered the large gaming floor. Normally his presence meant someone was going to be taken away, but today he simply seated himself at an empty table and chatted with the goblin running it. The goblin nodded at Harry's inquiries and motioned him to another table, across the room.

The small crowd at the table vanished as Harry approached, but the goblin here seemed to be expecting him. He began shuffling a deck of cards and inquired, "Here to enjoy a game of cards?" His voice was smooth and whispery and sent a chill down Harry's back.

"I'm looking for someone," Harry replied, wishing Hermione were here to help him count cards, in case he actually had to play a hand or two. "A woman." 

The goblin merely nodded in a polite way. 

Harry pushed a likeness of the girl - the composite sketch that had appeared in the newspaper - across the table. "She look familiar to you?"

The goblin glanced down at the table and shrugged. "Very pretty. Worth losing money for, is she?"

"Maybe." 

"You know, many ladies fall into difficulties here," began the goblin. "Perhaps your friend is also in trouble?"

Harry retrieved his picture. "If you know anything -" he began, but the dealer cut him off.

"It's terribly sad when a lady gets on a losing streak. Some stay all night trying to win back what they've lost. Yes, so sad," he repeated, shaking his head. "Because if they leave without paying up, well, you know what happens."

Harry did know. He'd cleaned up enough messes for precisely that reason, and he knew goblins wouldn't scruple to kill a woman if she owed them a lot of money.

"Are you a gambling man, Harry Potter?" inquired the goblin, now eyeing him slyly. Harry again felt a shiver run down his spine at the sound of the goblin's silvery voice.

"Obviously not."

The goblin's grin widened. "Perhaps you would risk it once? To help a young lady?" He tilted his head to the right, and Harry followed his glance to a very crowded table. The cluster of spectators almost hid her, but Harry saw a woman with very long blonde hair hunched over the gaming table.

Even from this distance and even seeing merely the back of her head, he knew this was the same girl he'd been searching for all these weeks. Feeling eyes on her the girl turned, saw Harry, and jumped up. With a terrified glance first at the dealer and then the hulking security troll near the door, she began running.

Harry shoved past goblins, trolls, and gamblers, trying to reach the woman before she disappeared again. She slipped out a side exit, setting off an alarm which resulted in numerous large, smelly trolls lumbering into action. Harry noted with disgust that the weak deodorising charms placed on the trolls did little to disguise their stench. 

Pushing through the crowd he dashed outside into the alleyway. He looked up and down the street, searching for that distinctive hair. Spying something bright and light he sprinted ahead, knocking aside other passers-by in his haste. He reached out a hand and closed his fingers around the girl's slender wrist. She jerked around at being stopped, her expression both frightened and annoyed, but this quickly changed to wonder and recognition on seeing Harry's face. "Harry Potter," she said faintly, still staring at him.

Harry's hand remained tight around her wrist and he felt her pulse throb against his fingers. "You're not a ghost," he said at last.

"A ghost!" she cried and jerked her wrist from his grasp. "Why would you say such a thing?"

"Long story." Harry reached again for her arm. "Let's go somewhere a little quieter, shall we?"

Without waiting for an answer Harry propelled her down the remainder of Knockturn Alley, then turned towards the Leaky Cauldron, all the time maintaining a firm grip on her arm.

Tom, the ancient proprietor, nodded at Harry when they walked in. "A private room, please," said Harry, and without another word, Tom ushered them into a room at the back. 

"And some tea, please," Harry added. After the evening's events he personally would have enjoyed a stronger drink but tea seemed the safer option. 

"I guess I should thank you," began the girl, once seated. "That's twice you've saved me. If that's what you've just done," she added apprehensively.

"Relax. I'll take care of things with the casino. So it _was_ you that night." Harry still couldn't believe it. "You - you really escaped from St Mungo's?"

The girl glanced around the room as if she feared being overheard. "You don't have to say it so loudly."

"I'm not." Harry stared at her for a moment, then stuck out his hand. "Harry Potter, by the way, but I guess you knew that."

She took his hand and for the first time, a hint of a smile appeared at the corners of her mouth. "I did. One of the few things I know."

Tom brought in their tea and both Harry and the girl fell silent. "Will there be anything else?" the wizened landlord asked Harry.

"No, thank you. If you could just, er, see to it that we aren't disturbed..." began Harry and Tom nodded in complete understanding. 

When they were alone once more Harry asked, "What's your name?"

She began to look nervous again. "I have been kept under heavy memory charms and enchantments for years. The longer I am free of them, the more bits and pieces return, but I am afraid I recall very little - not even my own name."

"Okay." Harry paused, considering. "I don't suppose you want to tell me why or how you escaped from the hospital?"

She lifted the teacup to her lips and sipped before saying, "You suppose correctly."

Harry let out a sigh of frustration and leaned back in his chair. He knew he should be happy just to be in the same room with her, but so many questions flooded his mind. 

"Why did you think I was a ghost?" The blonde asked, looking amused again.

"That night I first met you - your hand was so cold, like a ghost's. And then," Harry paused, feeling slightly ridiculous now. "A friend suggested you might be a pontianak - you know, a vampire come back to avenge betrayal by a lover."

She set down her teacup with a clatter and looked alarmed.

"But obviously you're not," Harry added hastily. 

"Why do you care who or what I am?" she asked. "Why have you been following me? Why bring me here? What do you want, Mr Potter?"

Harry was taken aback. Now that she asked him, he wasn't quite sure. "I guess I care because you vanished so suddenly that first night," he began slowly. "I couldn't help wondering what had happened to you, and then I started learning bits of information about you and I just felt compelled, I guess, to find you."

"Compelled." She took another sip of tea. 

"Yeah." He watched her drink, watched her slender fingers as they wrapped themselves around the teacup, her eyes darting around the room periodically. "Are you a witch?"

"I'm not a ghost, am I?"

"You didn't answer my question."

She shrugged. "How else would I be in Diagon Alley, or Knockturn, for that matter?"

"But when I first saw you - you didn't seem to have any idea how to get to London. I thought you were a Muggle."

"Did you!" she exclaimed. "Well, I suppose I might as well be, for all the magic I know."

Harry looked at her more closely and lowered his voice. "Are you - that is, are you a squib?" He choked a bit over the last word.

She met his gaze straightforwardly. "Again, I might as well be. I've been at St Mungo's for almost half my life - since I was ten years old."

"Half your life," echoed Harry. "Why?"

"I don't want to talk about it." She set down her cup and turned away from him.

"Well sorry, but I do want to talk about it." Harry knew he had no right to be angry with her but nonetheless he was losing patience. "Half the Aurors in London are looking for you - do you know that? The first night I saw you I also met up with several mediwizards in St Mungo's robes, but the St Mungo's chief of staff told the press his Hospital's never had a patient matching your description. So I think the least you can do is tell me why you spent all that time in the hospital, if you really did. Why were you there - why didn't you ever go to school?"

The girl swiveled in her seat so she faced him once again. She looked at him for several seconds, her large grey eyes studying his agitated face and resting for a moment on his scar. At last she said, "_He_ did not wish it."

"He?" Harry looked at her blankly.

"Told me he was my benefactor, that I should feel _grateful_ such a wealthy man had taken an interest in my case and paid for me to be treated at St Mungo's. As if there was ever anything wrong with me," she hissed and Harry noticed her eyes, which had seemed pale a moment ago now blazed with emotion. "Of course St Mungo's has no record of my being there. _He_ made sure of that - paid everyone off very handsomely I'm sure."

"What about your parents? Did they think sending their daughter to St Mungo's was a terrific educational plan as well?"

"My father is dead and for all I know, my mother thinks I am dead like my father."

"I'm sorry." Harry studied the girl, wondering if she was telling him the truth. "Why would anyone do this to you?" 

She stared into his eyes and Harry felt himself glance away at the intensity of her gaze. "I am that rarest of witches: a true Seer. His sole aim, ever since I reached an age to manifest my magic, was to isolate me from anything or anyone who could teach me. So he kept me at St Mungo's under the influence of heavy charms and enchantments which made certain I'd never be able to use my abilities. Except when _he_ wanted me to."

Harry didn't respond right away. He was remembering when he was eleven, how Hagrid had come for him, how all those letters from Hogwarts had come for him. Surely Dumbledore had known, somehow, about a magical child's existence. Why would he allow her to remain at St Mungo's, especially if she was a Seer?

"Sorry." Harry finally took a swallow of his tea, only to find it cold. "So, this 'benefactor.' Do you know his name?"

A hard look came to the girl's eyes and her mouth tightened as she almost spat out the words. "Lucius Malfoy. That is one name I will always remember." 

"Lucius Malfoy?" Harry repeated in surprise. "How do you know? Why didn't you tell me this immediately?" He reached automatically for his wand.

The girl noticed Harry's reaction. "I am telling you the truth. And you needn't worry I'll run away from you." She looked pointedly at his wand, and Harry replaced it on the tabletop. "I know because I was able to escape thanks to a helpful matron on my ward who felt sorry for me. She gradually eliminated all the potions used to restrain my powers and she never placed memory charms on me. Freed from those influences, I began to remember some things and she told me who was responsible for keeping me there. It was with her assistance I escaped."

"Why not return to your family? Surely you must remember them."

She shook her head. "I remember what they looked like when I last saw them. That was years ago. I don't even know where they live or if they're still alive. I had hoped I would find the man who gave me this talisman. He said to come to him if I were in trouble. That's why I came to London - I thought he might be here."

Harry felt himself growing impatient again. "I don't suppose you remember his name?"

"No. But I remember his face. His eyes, in particular, were very kind. Blue, always twinkling."

Harry stared at her. "Does the name Albus Dumbledore mean anything to you?" he asked slowly.

"Dumblydorr. Yes. That is his name."

"Dumblydorr?" Harry puzzled over her pronunciation. "But the only person who ever called him that was -" he broke off and furrowed his brow, trying to remember where he'd heard that before. "Madame Maxime? The headmistress of Beauxbatons? Where exactly are you from?"

Now her eyes seemed to be laughing at him in an oddly familiar way. "You are the one with a complete memory, not I." 

She shrugged with a kind of dismissive elegance and watching her, Harry suddenly felt as if he were the one who'd had his memory tampered with. That gesture, and others from throughout the evening, reminded him of someone.

"Gabrielle," he said at last. "You're Gabrielle Delacour, Fleur's little sister." 


	4. Reunions and Revelations

A/N: Thanks for everyone's patience as this tale slowly wends its way ahead. Special thanks and appreciation for your lovely reviews; the moments of self-expression from the following were particularly smile-inducing: Lady Alijan (ok, flattery _will_ get you everywhere), Memi's unique phrasings ("does my Auror"?! - eek) and Shakira's glee (Yay! A Delacour). And as always, big hugs to my beta-reader Wotan.

Of course, now that Delacours abound, I'm faced with the challenge of trying to mimic French accents for all those ladies. Be a little forgiving and just _imagine_ how they all must sound, even if my writing doesn't always reflect this. Oh, and sorry this is so long - I'll try to be more succinct next chapter.

CHERCHEZ LA FEMME 4: Reunions and Revelations

"Lucky thing I finally recognised you," Harry had joked on opening the door to his flat and ushering in Gabrielle. "I always like to know a girl's name before I take her home." 

But Gabrielle hadn't understood his joke, and Harry had refrained from saying much else that evening; his many questions would have to wait until she'd caught up on her sleep. 

Harry stayed up most of the night, dozing off occasionally in the chair by his bed where Gabrielle slept. He kept replaying the night's events in his mind, going over their conversation and hoping he'd done the right thing bringing her here rather than straight to the Auror offices. Somehow that had seemed too impersonal. 

After rehashing all the details he could recall from his Leaky Cauldron encounter with Gabrielle, Harry's thoughts turned to the time of her disappearance, near the end of his sixth year at Hogwarts. That would make Gabrielle just about ready to start at Beauxbatons, Harry realised. But rather than begin studies that would have allowed her to develop her rare talents, she had received an unwanted education in the Dark Arts. 

Wishing it were a decent hour so he could consult Hermione, who would doubtless have better recall of the Daily Prophet coverage of the Delacour kidnapping, Harry tried to remember what he'd heard or read. He recalled with a smile that Ron had been excited about Fleur's scheduled visit to Hogwarts; she'd been working as a liaison between the French and British Education Ministries and had been about to address the school regarding study abroad opportunities. Ron had showed him the photograph in the Daily Prophet of Fleur, Dumbledore and the Education Ministers from both countries. But before Fleur had even reached Hogwarts her younger sister had disappeared. The case was big news, and the Delacours had offered a handsome reward should Gabrielle be found. But then school had ended for the year, Harry had returned to the Dursleys and he hadn't seen wizarding news until the next school year. And by then, other things came to occupy his attention… 

The last time he'd seen Fleur had been a couple years after he left school. She'd finally given up searching for Gabrielle, had assumed she was dead, like so many others.

Shaking off those memories, Harry roused himself from the chair and went to the windows, scanning the grey dawn skies for a sign of the delivery owl bearing his morning newspaper. Eventually it came and he settled back in his chair, unrolled the paper and tried to read, but his tired eyes could do little more than scan headlines.

When Gabrielle woke up, Harry was leaning back in the chair, the paper spread across his front.

"I was dreaming about you," she said, shaking back her hair and raising herself on one elbow.

Harry kept his eyes closed. "I bet you say that to all the guys who find you on a roadside and take you home." 

"Harry!"

At this he reached up, tossed the newspaper aside and looked at her with an apologetic smile. He kept forgetting about Gabrielle's impaired sense of sarcasm. "Sorry. Joking. How do you feel?"

"Okay." She tried to smile but Harry noticed the anxious look returning as she glanced around the room. Everything, even his simple flat, seemed to fill her with dread. "What happens now?"

"Technically I should take you directly to the Auror offices. Well, if we're being technical I should have taken you there last night."

"Thank you for bringing me here instead." 

Harry nodded. "We still have a lot to talk about. How much, exactly, do you remember?"

"About what?"

Harry waved both his hands in an impatient gesture as he said, "About anything. Do you remember being kidnapped? How did Malfoy know you were a Seer? What did he want you to do for him?"

Last night Harry had thought Gabrielle's glassy-eyed expression was a combination of exhaustion and amnesia. Yet even now, after a long rest, the same expression settled over her features like a mask. "I don't remember much about that at all," she said finally. "My childhood memories are very…scattered." 

She closed her eyes and spoke quietly. "I remember visiting England once, with my mother. I don't know where we were. Not London."

"Hogwarts," Harry interrupted and couldn't help smiling. "That's when we first, er, met. But you probably don't remember that, either. I pulled you out of a lake."

Gabrielle opened her eyes and looked at him amusedly. "You did?"

"Yes."

"Why? What was I doing there?"

"Long story. Let's get back to yours," he said hastily, not wanting to think about the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

"That was when I met the man with the eyes?"

"Dumbledore," Harry provided.

"Yes. I don't know how much longer it was until _he_ came for me - years, perhaps. We were visiting London. I had seen the - seen Dumblydorr again, he gave me the pendant. I think it was supposed to bring good luck."

Harry interrupted again. "Not exactly. It's a protective talisman. Dumbledore must've known something was up and was trying to protect you."

Gabrielle regarded him thoughtfully. "I didn't know. But it would explain something."

"What?" Harry leaned forwards eagerly.

"When I was first at the hospital that Malfoy man saw my necklace and tried to take it, but he couldn't. When he touched it, he let out such a scream I could never forget it. He never tried to do it again, didn't even lay a hand on me."

Harry stood up and paced the room. "You must have been at the Ministry of Magical Education offices when you saw Dumbledore again – Fleur was about to visit Hogwarts. Dumbledore went down to London, gave you that talisman – what happened next?"

"We were in a crowded street, we were in a hurry." Gabrielle squinted, trying hard to remember. "Mother was calling to me to hurry up and then…" 

"And then?" Harry prompted gently.

"I don't know." She looked at him blankly. "I don't remember."

"How did Lucius know you were a Seer?" Harry tried a different tack.

"I have no idea. The first few years at the hospital are such a blur. It was so awful - I remember not being able to speak to anyone because I didn't know English. He forced me to learn. It is ironic," she mused, smoothing back her hair. "Now I do not remember my own tongue. Only his."

"Do you remember things he would ask you to do?"

Gabrielle shook her head. "No. Really, all I remember is sitting in my room for hours, for days, always alone."

Harry nodded sympathetically. He had anticipated Lucius Malfoy would have taken a number of precautions to cover his tracks. "I'll be right back," he said and disappeared into the next room.

Digging through a box, Harry pulled out an album containing all the cuttings from the year of the Triwizard Tournament. Hagrid had kept it and given it to him, but Harry never looked at it if he could help it. Now he flipped through the pages, looking for a photograph of the champions and their families, taken right before the third task. 

"They look familiar?" he asked, returning to Gabrielle's side and thrusting the aged cutting at her. Fleur stood flanked by her mother and by a very young Gabrielle.

He watched closely as Gabrielle inspected the photograph. Her face was at first puzzled, then amazed. When she looked up at Harry, tears stood in her eyes. "My mother! My sister!" she exclaimed in wonder, and Harry covered his mouth to hide the smile her words had provoked. If only Seamus could have been there.

"This is me?" she pointed to the little girl version of herself.

"Yeah."

"Are they - are they still alive?" she asked tentatively.

Harry nodded. "Yes. They looked for you for years, it was a big story here."

Gabrielle couldn't tear her eyes away from the waving images of her mother and Fleur. Watching her, Harry was suddenly reminded of when he had first seen images of _his_ family in the Mirror of Erised, and then later in the photographs Hagrid had collected for him. 

"You can keep that," Harry offered. Then he dug into his pocket and held out the pendant. "And I think this belongs to you, too." 

"My necklace!" Gabrielle reached for it eagerly and promptly slipped it over her head. "I should never have sold it, but I hadn't any money – it was the only thing of value I owned. You bought it from that awful man?"

"No. My godfather did. Sirius Black. After I saw you that first time, I asked him to help me track you."

Gabrielle bounced across the bed and engulfed Harry in a hug. "Thank you," she said, then sat back. "This Sirius Black - he must be a wonderful man. I must thank him."

Harry smiled. Gabrielle was one of the few people in the magical world who would respond with such glee at hearing Sirius's name. "He is. You can."

"Listen, Gabrielle," he began, placing a hand on her shoulder and regarding her seriously. "I know you've been through a lot in the past twenty-four hours, but I really do need to get you to headquarters. Your family should be notified, and we have a number of experts who can help you begin to recover your memory."

Gabrielle shrank back from him. "Do we have to go now?"

"I think it'd be best." Harry realised she was wearing nothing but one of his tee-shirts, which while suitable as a nightgown wasn't exactly appropriate for going out. "Um, I guess you might want a change of clothes."

Gabrielle looked over at her ragged robes. "It would be nice, yes, but I hardly think you will have anything suitable."

"Not me. Hang on," said Harry, and disappeared again from the bedroom. Settling himself before the low fire, he tossed in some powder and called Ginny. No answer at her fireplace, so he tried again and got Seamus' tousled head.

"Seamus, is Ginny there? I need to speak to her - it's urgent business."

"Just a minute." Seamus was replaced by Ginny, who looked considerably perkier than her boyfriend.

"What's up?"

"Are you alone?"

"Yes." Ginny's expression grew worried. "Harry what's wrong? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. I just need you to do some things for me and I need them done quietly. Meet me at our office in twenty minutes and bring some extra robes with you. And don't say anything to anyone - not even Seamus."

Ginny stared. "Harry, you're starting to worry me. Are you positive you're okay?"

"Yes," he nodded impatiently. "Just do what I told you and meet me right away. You'll understand when you see me."

Ginny's face had just disappeared when Gabrielle strolled in. "Who are you talking to?"

"My partner. She's going to bring you a new set of robes to the office. But we need to hurry."

He could tell Gabrielle remained reluctant to leave the comfort and quiet of his flat, but she simply returned to the bedroom and emerged a few minutes later fully dressed and looking remarkably beautiful, he noted, given the circumstances.

**

Ginny was already waiting for them. "Harry, _what_ is going on -" she broke off on spying Gabrielle and clapped a hand to her mouth. "Oh my god, is that - it can't be - _you're_ the one we've been looking for?" Ginny finally concluded, staring at Gabrielle.

Harry grinned. "Gabrielle, meet my colleague, Ginny Weasley."

Gabrielle had been looking puzzled during their exchange, but now smiled and extended her hand to Ginny.

"I brought you something, just like Harry asked," Ginny babbled, shaking out green robes. "They might be a bit long," she added, sizing up Gabrielle.

"I'm sure they'll be fine, thank you," said Gabrielle.

"You can change in my office." Ginny offered, and they all proceeded down the corridor, Harry stopping at his office.

Ginny leaned a hand against his doorframe and raised her eyebrows at Harry as Gabrielle continued walking ahead. "I trust you've notified the director?"

"Should be here any minute." Harry glanced down at his watch. He hoped she would be so pleased and possibly even dumbfounded over his locating Gabrielle Delacour that some of his more unorthodox decisions would be overlooked.

**

Fleur and her mother Apparated to London immediately. Harry had a job of it, trying to keep the two women in his office. Their sole aim was to see Gabrielle as quickly as possible and they pulled out every Veela charm they possessed in an effort to do so. 

"I'm sorry, Fleur," Harry said, more firmly than he felt. "Gabrielle herself requested you not be shown back to her rooms until she has completed the official debriefing. We have to recover as much information as she can give us, and as I've explained, her memory remains severely altered. She won't really know you."

Fleur slid off Harry's desk and smoothed her robes down over her thighs with a noisy sigh. "I do not believe my own sister would refuse to see me."

"She's not refusing. You don't understand how exhausted she is."

"Are you telling me I do not understand my own sister?"

At that moment, Ginny walked in and Harry felt immensely grateful. "Harry's saying nothing of the sort," she said crisply to Fleur. "Now if you'll come with me, ladies, I'll fill you in on the information we have at this time."

No sooner had they departed than a secretary announced Sirius was waiting for Harry in reception. Harry had owled him to come in to give his account of events at Borgin and Burks and the Cleland Arms.

"How is she?" Sirius asked when Harry came out to meet him.

"They've been evaluating her all morning." Harry sighed, then added, "I think she'll be happy to see you. She was very appreciative when I told her you'd rescued her necklace from Borgin."

They were halfway down the corridor when Harry saw Gabrielle's attending mediwitch, and asked, "Any more news?"

"We've completed our preliminary analysis. Of course, a complete recovery will take months."

Harry sagged against the wall, suddenly feeling very tired. "Do you think she will recover?"

"Oh, certainly enough to lead a normal life. But there may always be gaps in her memory and there's the fact that she has had no magical education. That will have to be attended to somehow, especially given her particular abilities."

"So what's the problem?"

"Harry," she began, using the gentle tone one assumed for breaking bad news to someone, "when I first examined Gabrielle, I said the charms were too strong to break through right away. Many of them are. But what's odder is that there are several sections of memory which show little to no modification."

"So she's been lying?" Harry asked, puzzled.

The mediwitch shook her head. "She may have simply repressed the memories. The areas deal with times when she was forced to use her divination abilities for the Death Eaters' purposes. She's witnessed – and participated in - some terrible things yet she cannot recall them. I've collected these memories in a Pensieve, but she has no first-hand recollection of the experiences herself."

Harry frowned. "That doesn't make sense. Why wouldn't she remember? Those must have been some of the few times she was allowed to be completely lucid."

Sirius spoke up. "It makes sense to me. Who would want to remember the most horrible parts of their life? I was in a place for a dozen years where that was the sole purpose – to force you to have nothing but your worst memories. Shut up in St Mungo's like that she'd have to block such memories if she wanted to stay sane. And I'm sure her captors were betting on that."

The mediwitch agreed. "It's possible, yes. Since Seers are so rare, we know little about how their magic works. I do know the Seer's mind must be absolutely clear in order to perform advanced divination work. That means the Death Eaters would have had to relax the memory enchantments and stop using obscuring potions before having her work for them. It's possible they were unable to completely modify everything to do with her divination work."

"How likely is that?" wondered Harry.

"I don't know. This is only one theory. As I said, we don't know much about Seers and this is a very unique situation." The mediwitch continued. "Another possibility to consider is that she was somehow complicit in working for them. Perhaps she struck a deal with them."

"But she was only a child! Surely she couldn't –" Sirius interjected, but was silenced by the witch raising a hand.

"I'm merely considering all possibilities, Mr Black. It's what we have do to here, no matter how unpleasant or unlikely, right Mr Potter?" She looked to Harry.

"I suppose," he agreed reluctantly. "I'd have to agree with Sirius, though – based on what I know about Gabrielle, I can't believe she would willingly have helped Voldemort."

"How well do you know her?" asked the mediwitch.

"Well enough." Harry's jaw was set at a determined angle and he appeared to be considering something. Finally he asked, "What sort of things did you see that she'd done?"

She put several rolls of parchment into Harry's hands. "It's all in my report, along with the other medical assessments she's been through. You can view the Pensieve too, if you like. As you might imagine, we're keeping it under extremely tight security. Once she's stronger, and has been able to break through the modifications placed on childhood memories, she'll need to view the repressed memories herself."

Harry nodded. "So you're finished for today?"

"Yes. She's too exhausted to push her any further."

"Can her mother and sister see her now?"

The mediwitch smiled. "I think that would do her a world of good." Then she glanced at Sirius. "But for now, she should see only her family. As I've said, she's exhausted."

Sirius nodded. "I'll wait in your office, Harry."

"Thanks." Harry moved down the corridor, stopping to usher Sirius into his offices, then continued until he reached Gabrielle's door, where he gave a tentative knock.

"Come in." She smiled as he entered. "My family is here," she said, before he had even opened his mouth to tell her this news.

"They are. And they're practically beating down the door to see you. I've been holding them off as long as I can and now Ginny's got them."

"She will be more effective, I'm sure."

"Thanks a lot."

"You know what I mean." Gabrielle stretched a hand out towards him. "Come here."

Harry obliged. He'd had enough of resisting Veela today.

"Thank you for all you've done for me, Harry." She took his hand lightly in her fingertips. "I know you have experienced added difficulties because of me."

"Don't worry about it."

"It is serious. I owe you my life."

"Don't get melodramatic. I was just doing my job."

"Were you?" she looked into his eyes and Harry suddenly felt uneasy. Abruptly, she dropped her gaze and said, "I am ready, whenever you can show my mother and sister back."

"Right away." Harry edged near the door and began to open it. "Gabrielle, even after you're released from the infirmary here, you know you'll have to stay in England? There's treatments for you and the more memory you recover the more my office will need to take down that information. It may be quite some time before you can return home."

"What is home to me now?" she asked with a characteristic Delacour shrug. Harry didn't say anything, just walked down the corridor to retrieve the Delacours. Then he walked more slowly back to his office, locked the door and began to read Gabrielle's medical report.

**

When Madam Delacour and Fleur were informed of the fact that Gabrielle would have to remain in England indefinitely they did not protest, but merely began discussing housing options. 

"She will not like ze 'otel for such a long stay," worried Madame Delacour, pacing around Gabrielle's room, which was feeling quite small that day, filled with three Delacour women, Sirius and Harry. "Perhaps we should look for a house?"

Fleur nodded. 

Sirius, who had been watching and listening throughout their extended negotiation, finally cleared his throat and said, "Or you could come stay at my house."

"Your 'ouse!" Madame Delacour looked as if Sirius had just invited her to sleep in a cattle shed. "I was under the impression you 'ave no 'ouse."

"Not exactly." Everyone's eyes were on Sirius, even Harry's. "I just haven't had access to it until now. Ownership was tied up in the courts, pending my acquittal. Now that I've been cleared, the Ministry has returned the property to me."

"Sirius, when did this happen?" asked Harry.

"Just a few weeks ago. It's very large," he added, "although I'm not sure of the condition. It's been a few years since I've been there."

"More than a few," added Harry, astonished. He also felt curious, having wondered since he was thirteen what Sirius' house looked like. 

"If your house has been shut up all these years there is no way we can move Gabrielle to such a place. It will be full of dust, it will not be pleasant. She is very sensitive." Fleur stood in front of her sister's bed.

"I have amnesia, not asthma." Everyone jumped at the sound of Gabrielle's reproachful voice. 

"We have disturbed you," worried Madame Delacour, hurrying to her daughter's side.

Gabrielle shook off her mother's fluttering touch and looked at the small group with bright eyes. "I want to go to Sirius's house," she announced. "Anywhere to get away from here."

Harry nodded. "Assuming we can protect it with the proper enchantments, Sirius's home may well be the safest place for Gabrielle - outside of here, that is," he said, gesturing to the Auror offices. "And this is no place for long-term convalescence."

"I have no doubt it is obscure and remote," said Fleur tartly, arms still crossed as she addressed Sirius. "But if you 'ave not seen zis house in so long, what makes you think it is even standing, let alone in livable condition?"

"The Ministry looks after its property," Sirius explained, a note of bitterness creeping into his voice. "I think they were looking forward to auctioning my place off – would have brought quite a few Galleons to the Treasury."

"How accessible is your house?" Harry asked. "In this situation, the more remote the better."

"The house and grounds have been made unplottable ever since I was sent to Azkaban," Sirus said. "Perhaps you could have a word with the proper Ministry official to make sure it stays that way? I doubt any Muggles in the area even know a house exists, and the same may be true for the magical community - enchantments were placed on it to make it invisible even to them."

Harry moved towards the door. "I'll start making the arrangements right now. How long before we can move her?"

Sirius looked from Gabrielle back to Harry. "Give me a week."

**

Ginny had been putting in significant overtime since the discovery of Gabrielle, and as the situation began to settle down she happily took advantage of the added time-off she'd accumulated. Ever since Harry had contacted her and she'd rushed out of Seamus' place, they'd hardly had any time together. Ginny intended to change that situation starting tonight. She picked up her copy of Witch Weekly to pass the time waiting for Seamus to arrive back from work.

The cover article immediately captured her attention._ Harry Potter isn't the only famous graduate in his year_, the article began. _We've identified some of the brightest stars who are already making their mark in the magical world_. 

Gryffindor was well represented, with Hermione featured for her work in Runes, Ron for his legal work. And Seamus smiled handsomely from his photo taken at Gringotts. It was this last piece that troubled Ginny. At the end of the feature on Seamus, the article stated _It is widely anticipated that Finnigan's next move will take him to Hong Kong, where he will reportedly take over Gringotts' Asian investments division_.

Shocked, Ginny let the magazine slide to the floor. Hong Kong? He'd never even mentioned this possibility. Although Ginny knew better than to trust Witch Weekly for complete veracity, this wasn't a sensational piece. There was no reason for them to invent details about Seamus' professional life. So why hadn't he told her?

When Seamus returned home, Ginny was sprawled out on his leather sofa, a crumpled copy of Witch Weekly on the floor. 

"Miss me?" he asked, swooping down by her side and giving her a kiss.

"Oh, it's you." Ginny turned her face from the wall to Seamus.

Drawing back, he said, "Who else were you expecting?"

Ginny shrugged and sat up. "Have a good day at work?" she asked. "Any exciting new developments I should know about?"

"Um, nothing much." Seamus had been in the process of pulling off his tie but Ginny's tone made him look at her more closely. "What's with you today?"

"Nothing," Ginny lied, examining her nails. "I just like to keep up with you. It's been a while since we had much time together."

"You're telling me." Smiling again, Seamus sat down next to her and put his arm round her waist, but to his surprise Ginny inched away at his touch. "Gin – what is going on?"

"When were you going to tell me?" she asked wearily, picking up her magazine and smoothing the bent pages.

"Tell you what?"

"About Hong Kong. Or did you think it better for me to read about it instead?"

"What are you nattering on about?"

Ginny didn't say anything, just shoved the magazine into his hands and watched as he sat down and read. "Well?"

As soon as she saw his face she knew it was true. "Ginny, I was going to tell you, I was. I have no idea how they got this information. It hasn't even been confirmed yet, that's why I didn't tell you."

"Waiting for that perfect moment? I suppose it is difficult to find just the right way of saying 'I'm leaving you,'" said Ginny.

"What? Who said anything about leaving you? I could never leave you!" Seamus looked up at her, alarmed.

"Seamus. That job is in Hong Kong. If you go, you're leaving me."

"Why don't you come with me?'

Ginny snorted. "And do what? I just got the promotion of a lifetime. I'm not going to give that up."

"Couldn't you get transferred overseas? I hear there's lots of crime in Hong Kong, dark wizards running triads and such," he suggested hopefully.

"I just told you. This job is a once in a lifetime opportunity. No witch my age has ever held this kind of position. I'm not giving it up."

Seamus flushed angrily. "But you think I should give up this opportunity?"

"All I said was you should have told me so we could talk it over."

"We're talking about it now, aren't we? And you think I shouldn't go."

Ginny felt her anger melting into sadness and a kind of panic. Everything seemed to be happening very quickly all of a sudden and the conversation was running away from her, somewhere she didn't want it to go. 

When she didn't respond, Seamus spoke again. "It would only be for one year, two tops. It wouldn't be forever."

"Long distance relationships don't work."

"They can. Lots of people make them work these days. The floo network is pretty extensive now – I could talk with you every day."

"Fine. Then why not just commute every day, too?"

He shook his head. "It's too far to travel by floo or to Apparate. You have to fly or use a Portkey. But we could visit each other during our holidays. They'd give me pretty generous leave time."

"Don't make me have to choose like this, Seamus," Ginny said quietly. 

"Choose what?"

"Between my job and you."

"You're asking the same thing of me."

"Not really. You're already established. This would just be another feather in your cap. If I give up my job I'd have to start over. I'd completely lose credibility in the profession – and they'd all say it was because I was too young, or because I'm female and couldn't handle it. Nobody would say that about you."

"Yeah, because I'm not female."

"This isn't a joke!" she replied sharply. "You know what I mean."

Seamus sighed very deeply. "Ginny, the only thing I know is I want you in my life. I care about you so much and the distance won't make a difference to me. It doesn't matter where in the world you are, I'll always feel connected to you. I'll still love you just the same."

"Sometimes love isn't enough." Ginny pressed her mouth inward and bit down on her bottom lip, hoping the pain would distract her from crying. 

"What's that mean?"

"I don't know." Ginny brushed at the corner of her eye and turned away. "I have to go," she whispered and ran out the door of Seamus' flat.

**

"So that's it? You have a fight and it's over?" Hermione swirled her spoon in her teacup and peered across the kitchen table at Ginny, who had just poured out the details of her most recent encounter with Seamus.

"It wasn't just any fight. I don't even know what happened," Ginny confessed. "I was angry, but then everything turned somehow, like we'd suddenly agreed things were over without even discussing it. Everything just dissolved on me."

"Nothing's dissolved yet," pointed out Hermione. "You haven't even talked to him since."

Ginny sighed heavily. "There's nothing to talk about. One of us has to give up something, and at this point neither of us is budging."

"If you just talked to him -"

"It's not going to happen, Hermione." Ginny's words came out more brusquely than she'd intended and she sat back for a moment, frowning at her untouched cup of tea. "I'm not going to be around. Harry is moving Gabrielle and her family to an unplottable location and I'm meant to join them as soon as everything is in place."

"So go and see him right now," encouraged Hermione. "You have the time."

"It isn't that simple."

Hermione pushed back her chair and carried her cup and saucer to the sink. "Fine. Talk to him, don't talk to him - " she stopped running water and turned to face Ginny. "I just thought you valued this relationship enough to make more of an effort."

Ginny rolled her eyes and her mouth settled into a stubborn expression Hermione had seen many times in Ron. "The choice is his. I'm not the one contemplating a move to the other side of the world. If he's serious about the relationship, he'll stay here."

Hermione looked at Ginny for a long minute and then abruptly changed the subject. "So Harry tells me Dumbledore made that talisman for Gabrielle."

"That's what she says."

"Don't you believe her?" Hermione cocked her head in surprise. 

Ginny corrected herself. "I didn't mean that. It's just…her memory isn't the most reliable. She does seem very insistent that Dumbledore gave it to her. But that doesn't mean he made it."

"Who else, then? That's a very complex, powerful protection spell. Only someone like Dumbledore would have had the power and the knowledge to create something like that."

"Well, it probably was him," Ginny shrugged, unable to enter into Hermione's interest in runes at the moment. "I'm just saying, nothing is certain right now. We'll know more once she starts memory therapy."

Hermione nodded and looked thoughtful. "It's going to be very difficult for her, I'd imagine. And Ginny," Hermione again looked doubtful, then continued, "I've been thinking - once her memory is restored, she'll finally have complete access to her Seer abilities. But she hasn't had any magical education. That could be a very dangerous combination."

"I know." Ginny agreed. "It's a real problem. The memory blocks restrain her magic to a degree, but the blockage also protects her from her own, untrained power."

"But she's not some young kid who finds she can make odd things happen. For one, she's an adult and for another, she's going to be dealing with some intense emotional damage. Intense emotion doesn't mix well with undisciplined magic."

Ginny stood and brought her full cup of cold tea to the sink. Pouring it out she said, "You volunteering to be her private tutor?"

"No. I'm just worried that's all."

"Don't be. The Ministry has every expert involved. She's going to be okay, eventually."

"I meant about Harry."

"Harry?" Ginny started to laugh then saw Hermione was serious. "Why would you worry about him?"

Hermione flushed and moved away from Ginny. "Well, I'm worried about you, too. You'll both be in close proximity with her. An untrained Seer can be really dangerous – I've read about cases where people went mad because they couldn't tell the difference between their visions and reality. Hurt themselves, attacked those around them."

Ginny regarded Hermione skeptically. "I've handled dangerous people before. What are you getting at?"

Hermione didn't answer immediately and while Ginny's question still hung heavy between them, Ron poked his head in through the kitchen door. 

"Okay to come in?" he asked. 

"Of course," answered Hermione, moving towards him. 

"You okay, Ginny?" he asked, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder and feeling privately thankful Hermione had taken charge of the earlier tearful scene.

"Fine." But Ginny wasn't looking at him, she was looking at Hermione, who refused to meet her eyes. "Thanks for the tea and sympathy," she said and at last Hermione turned, giving Ginny an automatic smile.

"Anytime."

Ron saw Ginny out, then pulled Hermione to the living room sofa. "Is she okay?"

"I don't know. She and Seamus can both be very stubborn."

Ron smiled. "Wouldn't know anything about that."

"You wish." Hermione punched him lightly on the shoulder. "So I've been thinking about the Hogwarts job."

"Oh?"

"And I don't think I want to go."

"Hermione, you don't have to decide right now. I don't want to hold you back. Unlike some people, I can be very flexible." He smiled at her encouragingly.

"I appreciate that Ron." She returned his smile. "But I'm not convinced it's the best place for me right now. For one thing, I'm not sure I want to abandon all my own research for the sake of teaching. Then there's the reality of Hogsmeade life - after living in London it may be dull. I mean, there's no theatre scene -"

"And that's a bad thing?" joked Ron.

Hermione continued as if he hadn't spoken. "You'd be Apparating back and forth all the time, and we'd be away from all our friends."

"They could come and visit. One of the advantages of being magical - you can Apparate most places."

"It wouldn't be the same. Ginny couldn't come over like she did today."

"Sure she could."

"Well, maybe, but it wouldn't be the same." Hermione refused to be sidetracked. "And how would you feel about being so far from Harry? He's your best friend. Surely you'd miss him."

Ron appeared baffled. "I guess. But like I said, he could Apparate up whenever he liked. And he's pretty quick on a broomstick, too."

"I just don't think you realise how much you'd miss not having him nearby. You have drinks together all the time, we do things together so often - it would be a big change."

Ron fell silent. "A big change for whom, exactly?" he finally asked, his expression wary. "I already told you it doesn't bother me."

Hermione coloured and twitched her shoulder. "I'd miss him, too, of course. And Ginny."

Ron was silent again for a long moment. Speaking slowly, he asked, "Hermione, are you telling me you're turning down this job because you don't want to leave Harry?"

"No, don't be ridiculous. That's not what I'm saying at all."

"Uh-huh." Ron studied her in the half-light of the darkening room. "Lumos," he commanded, absent-mindedly flicking his wand at the lamp nearby. 

Hermione remained partly turned away and after a few moments of silence, Ron stood up. "I'm never going to win with you, am I?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

He shook his head. "I think you know. Is this why you never want to get married? Worried you're still in love with him?"

"Ron!" Hermione now turned her full attention to him. "How can you say that? I just gave you a list of reasons why I don't want to move, the foremost being I like my job here. Why do you assume it all turns on Harry? Isn't it about time you got over this jealousy thing you have?"

"I'll stop being jealous when you stop giving me a reason for feeling that way." 

"I thought we settled this years ago. Harry is one of my oldest friends. He understands me better than almost anyone. Except for you." Hermione glared at Ron and added, "Of course right now I have to wonder."

But her sarcasm was ill-timed. Ron retorted, "Maybe you should go and talk to Harry, then. Since he understands you so well, I'm sure he'll know the right thing to say." 

Before Hermione could respond, a figure appeared in their fireplace. She got up and moved closer, only to see Harry's face in their fire. "Hi, Hermione. Is Ron home?"

Without returning Harry's greeting, Hermione turned and walked back to the sofa. "It's for you. Harry."

"Speak of the devil," muttered Ron, sliding off the sofa and crossing the room to take a seat before the fire.

Harry looked at Ron's stormy face. "Is this a bad time?"

"No, it's fine. Just, um, Ginny's been having some problems," Ron equivocated, glancing over his shoulder at Hermione. "What's going on?"

"I've just been reading the statements my office has obtained thus far from Gabrielle. There's some very interesting information here regarding Lucius Malfoy. Just what kind of deal did the Ministry strike with him?"

"What do you mean?" Ron frowned into the flames, quickly shoving his argument with Hermione to the back of his mind.

"What sort of immunity does he have, Ron? Because I don't think he's been quite the model citizen lately. Can you come down here? If it's convenient, that is. I think you'll want to read this yourself."

Ron jumped up. "I'm on my way."

As he prepared to Apparate, Hermione approached him, arms crossed. "Where are you going?"

"Work – something important's come up," he replied shortly, pulling on a cloak. 

"Ron, we haven't exactly finished our conversation," began Hermione, but soon realised she was talking to the air. Ron had left without another word.


	5. What You Wish For

A/N: In this episode, more Delacours, something to raise the eyebrows of both those for and against H/G, and a Draco cameo. Thanks to Wotan: beta-reader, continuity editor, abundant source of lad knowledge. 

CHERCHEZ LA FEMME 5: What You Wish For

Thanks to immense energy on Sirius' part, and the contributions of the House Elves he'd hired to assist with cleaning the interior (working only union hours - Hermione would be proud, Harry thought to himself), the house was ready in a week's time as promised. Harry, Ginny and their fellow Aurors placed a number of complicated enchantments around the entire grounds to completely secure the area, and even managed to transport the Delacours and their entourage - which besides the many Aurors included memory specialists, a medical team and magical tutors - without incident. 

Watching Madame Delacour and Fleur hover anxiously around Gabrielle's sickbed, Harry realised he'd never been in a household consisting only of witches. The only wizarding family with whom he'd spent any amount of time was the Weasleys and they were decidedly heavy on the Y chromosomes. Gabrielle never altered in her manner towards him, but when he was around all three of the Delacour women Harry sometimes felt superfluous.

Being immune to Veela influence, Ginny was placed in charge of supervising the safety of Gabrielle and her family, a job she carried out with gusto. As the situation with Seamus deteriorated, however, even Fleur was finally moved to ask her, "What is wrong?"

They were sitting in the large living room, alone. Ginny sighed and gave Fleur a condensed version of the past several weeks' events. 

Fleur frowned sympathetically. "You have tried feather boas?" she asked in all seriousness. "Wigs, whips - you have tried these things and still he goes?"

Ginny stared. "Um, no. Hadn't even considered it, frankly. Are you revealing the Veela secrets of universal charm and allure?"

"No, of course not. Veela women do not need such things. I was only thinking of your situation."

"Thanks, I guess." Ginny looked at Fleur uncertainly, not sure if she were being mocked. "I guess I'll just let my life go to hell in a handbag, as usual."

Fleur glanced at Ginny's Prada bag approvingly. "As long as the handbag is fashionable, I am sure you have done the best you can."

"Comforting as this conversation has been, I hope you'll excuse me while I go outside, okay?" Ginny stood up.

Fleur shrugged. "As you like."

"What's with her?" asked Harry, just coming inside as Ginny steamed past.

"Love."

"Oh, right. Seamus." Harry watched Ginny through the long French windows for a moment, then returned his attention to Fleur. "How's Gabrielle?"

"Better. Her memory therapy sessions are longer, now. She is remembering a bit more each day." Fleur studied Harry for a moment, then a slight smile came to her face and she continued, "And your godfather seems to have taken quite an interest in my mother."

"What? Sirius?" Harry eyed Fleur with some suspicion. "I haven't noticed anything."

"That is because you are not around every day. And because you are a man. Of course you do not notice."

"I notice things," Harry protested, looking outside again and wincing as Ginny gave Sirius' hedges some unneeded pruning with a blast from her wand. 

Harry wheeled from the window and faced Fleur. "Does Gabrielle know?"

A displeased look returned to Fleur's eyes. "She can barely remember her own childhood. You think she is noticing something like that? What does it matter, anyway, if she notices or not?"

"I guess it doesn't. Sorry." Harry was too distracted by Fleur's announcement to care if she was annoyed with him. "How do you know Sirius has…taken an interest in your mother?"

Fleur shrugged. "See for yourself," she offered and pointed outside.

Harry followed her gesture and saw Sirius and Madame Delacour approaching the house. Her hand was tucked alongside Sirius' arm and they appeared to be having a very animated conversation. He was startled to hear Fleur laugh. "What's so funny?"

"Your face. I 'ave never seen you so surprised." 

Even though he was the object of her fun, Harry didn't mind. Fleur's laughter was very musical, a pleasant sound rather than a mocking one. He wondered fleetingly if Gabrielle laughed in the same way; he'd never heard her laugh.

**

Harry may not have heard Gabrielle laugh, but he was starting to see her smile more. She even started showing signs of a sense of humour, as was demonstrated when Harry brought Ron out to follow up on Gabrielle's statements about Lucius Malfoy.

"Gabrielle?" Harry knocked at her door. Carefully opening it, he saw Fleur sitting at her sister's bedside. "There's someone I'd like you to talk to." He swung the door open the rest of the way and entered with Ron.

"This is Ron Weasley, Ginny's brother. He's working with the Ministry to prosecute Death Eaters. As you might imagine, his office is very interested in the things you've told us about Lucius Malfoy."

Gabrielle had been studying Ron as Harry spoke, and now she smiled and held out her hand. "A pleasure to meet you."

"And I think you remember Fleur?" Harry turned to Ron, who appeared dazzled by the presence of the two sisters. Fleur nodded but did not shake hands. Instead, her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly and she glanced from Ron back to her sister.

"You don't have to worry about speaking with Ron," explained Harry. "Everything will remain confidential. Ron's signed the Wizarding Secrets Act, all of that. He just wants to clarify some things from the statements you've given."

"Of course." Gabrielle smiled charmingly; each week she was away from the hospital, Harry realised, her face became more animated, her features came more alive. "When you told me a Ministry legal expert would be visiting," she said, still watching Ron, "I expected some elderly, white-haired man – you didn't tell me he would be so…young."

Fleur snorted. "Gabrielle, don't be foolish," she said sharply. "You 'ave seen only 'arry and now his friend since your escape. They are 'ere in a professional capacity, not for your entertainment."

Gabrielle turned her eyes to Fleur. Still smiling with mischief she said, "Well, I am quite satisfied with what I have seen so far."

Fleur's jaw set into a hard angle and she gave Ron and Harry looks more threatening than Gabrielle's own mother could have produced. "Do you mind if I stay?"

"Of course not," grinned Harry, then stopped smiling when he looked over again at Ron, who was still a little glassy-eyed and staring at Gabrielle. Ron had always been somewhat more susceptible to Veela influence. "Uh, excuse us a moment," he muttered. Grabbing Ron's arm, he dragged him out of the room and closed the door.

"Get hold of yourself!" he commanded, shaking Ron. "You can't be looking at her like that."

"Like what?" 

"You know." Harry couldn't help smiling a bit. "Maybe I should have Hermione come out here – bet she'd keep you on a tighter leash."

Now Ron scowled. "I'm not the one in need of restraint."

"Go on, Ron," laughed Harry. "I saw you just now. If Hermione had seen you looking at another woman like that she'd have kicked your –"

"Just drop it, okay?"

Ron's sharp tone instantly silenced Harry. "Sorry." He peered more closely at Ron. "Sure you're okay?"

"Of course." Ron's voice was crisp and professional. "Let's get on with this, shall we?"

"By all means." Harry opened the door and followed Ron inside.

Ron's interview with Gabrielle did not produce anything new and after forty minutes of talking, he and Harry left the sisters alone in Gabrielle's room. Fleur looked more than happy to see them leave, and had her wand poised to close the door almost before they were through it.

"What do you think?" asked Harry, once they were ensconced in his makeshift office downstairs. 

"Everything she says is very incriminating, but unless she can actually remember being kidnapped and can identify Malfoy without a doubt as the one who was responsible, I'm not sure how credible she'd be. And based on what you've told me, it's going to be quite some time before her memory is one-hundred percent - if it ever is." Ron looked to Harry for confirmation.

Harry nodded. "We still don't know how Malfoy knew about her divination abilities. Her mother has told us the family knew about her talents from a young age. In addition to the usual signs of magic she was making predictions with astonishing accuracy before she was ten years old. But Madame Delacour says their family has absolutely no connections to the Malfoys or any of their circle."

"Do you know how he got hold of her?"

"Not exactly. Madame Delacour and Fleur said they were about to take the Hogwarts Express up to the school for Fleur's talk. From the sounds of it Gabrielle was with them one moment and the next she was gone." Harry shook his head. "The only person who can really tell us what happened is Gabrielle. Or Lucius Malfoy, I guess. But he's not likely to admit to anything."

"No, he's not," Ron agreed. "And he's still under immunity from the Ministry. I can't do much unless there's clear proof he's violated the terms of the agreement. Although," he added, looking pleased at the prospect, "I could have him monitored more closely, ask around to see if he's been following all the rules."

"Let me know if you hear anything," said Harry, "there's always the er, less official means of surveillance." His thoughts turned to Malcolm Baddock. If there was anyone who'd want to help bring down the Malfoys, he seemed the likeliest candidate. 

Harry was taking Ron to the Auror who would escort him from the property when Ron said, "I've left my quill upstairs. Be right back," and dashed off.

Harry waved the Auror away and leaned against the wall, wondering how accidental Ron's forgotten quill was. He frowned, feeling that lately Ron seemed to be taking Hermione for granted - working late, staying out even later at various Diagon Alley pubs, and now flirting unashamedly with the Delacour sisters. 

"Harry!" Sirius appeared round a corner and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Even though you're practically living in my house I've hardly seen you."

A smile replaced the frown on Harry's face. "And whose fault is that? I saw you with Gabrielle's mother earlier today," he added. "Sure you're ready to leap into the dating world with a woman who's part Veela?"

"Would you expect anything less?" Sirius grinned. "You know me - I like a challenge." He glanced at the ceiling overhead. "And it appears Ron does, too. Saw him talking to Fleur just now."

"He said he'd left his quill," Harry said, the stormy look returning to his face. 

"Don't worry," assured Sirius, "this is Fleur we're talking about. Do you really think Ron's going to get anywhere with her?"

Harry had to admit this seemed unlikely and relaxed a bit, although he still could not refrain from checking his watch obsessively and wondering what was taking so long.

Upstairs, Ron was indeed chatting with Fleur, one hand against the wall and looking his most suave, completely undeterred by Fleur's glowering looks. 

"I believe zis is your quill," she said, holding it out to him.

"Thank you," Ron slipped it into his pocket. "How's your sister doing?"

"She is exhausted." Fleur's blue eyes flashed at Ron in a forbidding way. "If you 'ave a message for her please give it to me. She cannot see any more visitors today."

Ron stopped leaning and stood up straight. "I'm not after your little sister, Fleur," he said, dropping the provocative tone he'd been using earlier. "As you yourself said, my relationship to her is strictly professional. I'm only trying to help her - and you, really - by gathering all the evidence we have against Malfoy."

Fleur appeared slightly mollified by his words. "I am glad to 'ear it," she announced stiffly. "But you must understand why we are so protective of her, after all she 'as suffered."

"Of course. Besides," he added, a playful look returning, "she's far too young for me. You, on the other hand -"

Fleur took a step closer, invading Ron's personal space but not at all in the way he might have hoped for. "You are very lucky I am not a pure-blooded Veela. Do you know what I would do to you right now if I were?" she hissed menacingly, jabbing one long nail at his chest.

At this moment Harry appeared at the top of the stairs, having grown tired of waiting. He took in the scene with one glance, dragged Ron away with a sigh, and left Fleur to toss her hair and glare after them.

Ron remained silent until they reached the foyer downstairs. Looking over at Harry, he saw the lingering disapproval in his eyes and asked, "What, a man can't have a look now and then?"

"Oh, I suppose. But you do know that a look is _all_ you're going to get with Fleur?"

Ron smiled as the assistant Auror joined them and they prepared to leave. "Don't be so sure," he joked, laughing at the renewed outrage on his friend's face. "Lighten up, Harry - you just need to get out more yourself. Would it make you feel better if I told you Hermione does some looking herself?"

Harry wanted to ask just what Ron meant by that last remark but the other Auror indicated Ron was already behind schedule and took him away, leaving Harry no chance to respond. Maybe Ron was right - maybe he did need to get out more. 

**

The weeks after Seamus left were among the hardest Ginny had endured since leaving school. Her Auror training had been draining, both emotionally and physically, but this kind of loss and emotional turmoil was different. She had been relieved to spend most of the time immediately after his departure in seclusion at Sirius' home, keeping an eye on Gabrielle and working with Harry to gather all the memories Gabrielle retrieved through therapy. But as Gabrielle's memory improved, therapy gave way to magical training and Ginny found herself back in the office at Diagon Alley and back at her own empty flat, all too aware of Seamus' absence.

Happy or not, however, Ginny's days passed quickly and she was surprised one day when Harry came smiling into her office to inform her she had successfully completed her probationary period. 

"Let's go out and celebrate, "he suggested. "It'll be fun. Besides, Seamus told me to keep an eye on you, make sure you got out."

"He did?" Ginny forced herself not to look at Harry and kept staring at the piece of parchment in front of her.

"Yeah." Harry frowned at her. "He does care about you. Don't you think there's any chance –"

Now Ginny looked up. "No," she said flatly. "If he comes back and things work out - well, we'll just have to wait and see if that happens."

Harry nodded. "Okay. Well…where do you want to go?"

Ginny put down her quill and began rolling up the parchment. "Someplace with loud music and strong drinks," she quipped, still feeling out of sorts at the mere mention of Seamus.

"Hmm. You don't know what you're in for." Harry bounced his eyebrows up and down at her and smiled. 

"Taking me to your local, are you?" When Ginny had made the request she'd hardly expected Harry Potter to be familiar with any happening night spots.

"No, you want loud music, you'll get it. Magical or Muggle?" he asked.

"Muggle." Ginny answered without hesitation. She knew how much Harry disliked public attention and any time he went out in the magical world with the opposite sex, tabloids followed.

"Okay. I'll stop by around eight and we can have dinner first, okay?"

"Fine." Ginny stood up and shrugged on her cloak. "See you then."

**

Ginny's first surprise of the evening was Harry's choice of restaurant. Usually they just went to someplace casual and quick, but tonight he took her to a restaurant which was very new, very smart, and for which it was notoriously difficult to get reservations.

"Harry," gasped Ginny as they were seated. "How in the world did you get a table here?"

Harry smiled. "You'd be surprised what slipping a few choice bank notes to the maitre d' gets you."

"You shouldn't have!" Ginny didn't know whether to be pleased or outraged. It had been a long time since anyone had done something special for her, not since Seamus. But she didn't want to think about him.

"Worth it too, seeing you speechless," he joked and handed her the wine list. "What would you like?"

Following dinner, Harry kept his word and took Ginny to a noisy dance club where he bought her an extremely dry martini. She took a sip and tried not to cough. Harry was watching her closely and just smiled as she swallowed the stiff drink.

"Want to dance?" he asked after Ginny had nibbled on the speared olive. 

"Sure." She set her drink on the small table and stood up. The evening was proving to be most unexpected. First the fancy dinner and now Harry Potter wanted to dance? Still, she'd had the better part of not only a split of champagne but also a bottle of Bordeaux, plus half a martini – so she wasn't in the mood to question anything. 

Much to Ginny's surprise, Harry proved a quite capable dancer. Perhaps her judgement wasn't as sharp as usual, but based on her memories of him at Hogwarts dances, Harry had definitely improved. She wondered if he'd discovered a dancing charm, but decided that if such a spell existed, she would certainly have known about it and applied it to several previous boyfriends.

Ginny loved dancing, and realised she hadn't gone out in months, not since Seamus had left. She smiled, recalling how he could match her every outrageous move on the dance floor. _Wow_, she thought, _I'm actually smiling at a memory of Seamus_. That was progress. Maybe she should drink fine wines more often.

She smiled at Harry, who was dancing very close to her. She still couldn't get over his taking her to a place like this, where everyone was so packed on the floor you could feel your neighbour's sweat as you danced. He grinned back and pulled her forward, then kept his hands on her waist as they continued to dance. 

Once they left the club, Harry insisted on seeing her up to her flat and Ginny didn't really mind. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much fun and wasn't eager for the night to end. They sat companionably on her loveseat, enjoying the view of the roof tops and city lights. 

"You know what I like about you?" she mused, leaning casually against his shoulder. "We can just be silent for a long time and it's okay. There aren't many people like that."

"Yeah, I know." Harry shifted position slightly so that he was looking at her more directly.

Ginny smiled at him. "Thanks for tonight. It's been ages since I had that much fun."

"Not since – Seamus?"

"Yeah." Ginny dropped her head, her long, lush hair falling forward as she did so. She sighed and flicked it back.

"There's really nothing there between you two anymore?"

Ginny shook her head. "No."

Harry didn't say anything, just looked at her and in that instant Ginny realised he was going to kiss her. Her heart gave a great lurch and as he moved towards her, she automatically reached out and removed his glasses. Still holding his glasses in one hand, Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry and kissed him back. The only other time she'd kissed Harry had been what felt like a lifetime ago, when they were kids at school. And that had only been a requisite good-night, thanks-for-the-dance kind of kiss. Not like this. This was a serious, for-real kiss that left her a trifle breathless.

He released her after a moment and they blinked at each other. Ginny carefully set Harry's glasses down on the coffee table and tucked her hair behind her ears in a nervous gesture. Harry continued to eye her, a little questioningly now.

"Why'd you do that?" she asked curiously, still startled by the intensity of the kiss.

"I guess I've just been wanting to," Harry muttered. "Uh, sorry," he ventured when she remained silent. His face was faintly embarrassed, but mostly amorous.

"Don't be." Ginny smiled, leaned forward and pulled his face to hers. It almost seemed she'd forgotten how good it felt to be this close to someone. She kept leaning further, pushing him back against the arm of the sofa. Harry didn't protest, just ran his hands up under the back of her blouse and undid her bra so smoothly she'd have sworn he had used magic. Ginny sat back, grinned, then pulled her bra out through her sleeve.

"How do girls _do_ that?" asked Harry.

"That's proprietary information, I'm afraid. Come on." Ginny stood up and pulled Harry to his feet and towards her bedroom.

"Are you sure you're okay with this?" he asked.

"Yeah." Ginny turned and walked away. This was what she'd been waiting years for, right? Of course she was okay with it.

She ought to stop being surprised, Ginny reminded herself, as Harry proved even better at kissing than he had at dancing. And his dancing had been quite impressive. She realised she kept thinking of him as she had when they were at Hogwarts, as if he were still the teenage boy she'd once had a crush on, and it was a continual shock to encounter him as an adult - at least in this kind of situation. 

"Just a minute," she whispered, and opened her bedside table. Drawing out a stoppered amber bottle, she measured out a small amount of liquid and swallowed some, then handed it to Harry. "Preventative potion," she smiled. "Works best if both partners consume it."

Harry swallowed the potion and sent the bottle back to the table, his eyes never leaving Ginny. Feeling his arms around her again, passion and affection welled up in Ginny and without further hesitation, she decided to see if this had been worth the wait.

**

"Good morning," murmured Harry,reaching out an arm and draping it across Ginny's back. 

She shifted at his touch. It felt so strange, being in the same bed with him now it was light. Last night seemed almost like a dream. A long, alcohol-soaked dream. Squinting against the bright morning sunshine, Ginny decided that whatever the time, it was too early to be awake.

This wasn't the first time Ginny had awakened to a hangover and regret, but she'd never imagined she'd have those feelings about Harry. Not that she hadn't enjoyed herself thoroughly the night before. But in the daylight, realities about running foul of office romance policies came to mind, not to mention affection, rather than passion, seemed to be winning out in Ginny's emotions this morning. 

Still, Ginny decided, maybe Harry wasn't after anything serious either. Giving up on trying to sleep anymore, she slid out of bed and said, "Come on, get dressed. You're taking me out to breakfast."

"I am?"

She tossed him his clothes. "Yeah. And I'm hungry."

Harry pulled on his boxers and staggered towards the mirror. "My, my," said the mirror, causing Harry to jump in alarm. "This one's a keeper."

Ginny growled as Harry, recovering from his shock, smiled at her. "This way," she muttered, pushing him out of the bedroom and towards the bathroom, which had a mirror with less impulse for commentary.

**

A few days after Harry took Ginny out to dinner, Hermione owled and offered to take her to lunch to celebrate as well. Sitting in the café, Hermione watched as Ginny picked all the gelatin topping off her pudding before eating the cake. "You seem happier these days – any particular reason why?" she asked with a smile.

Ginny looked up from her excavation work. "I'm just tired of being sad, I guess. It's almost spring, why shouldn't I be happy?"

Hermione cocked one eyebrow at Ginny. "No reason. But you didn't answer my question."

Ginny twisted her mouth. Part of her wanted to talk to Hermione about her own confused feelings, but she also knew Hermione could be a little touchy when it came to Harry. "Do I have to have a particular reason?" she countered.

"I guess not." Ginny thought she was off the hook until Hermione added, "But Harry certainly does."

Fighting back a blush, Ginny took another bite and tried to look unconcerned when she asked, "What do you mean?"

"Come _on, _Ginny. Harry told me all about you two."

"He what?" Ginny's expression was anything but happy now. "When – _why_ did he tell you?" she sputtered.

"Um, the other day over lunch, I guess. Why are you so upset?"

"Because we agreed not to tell anyone, that's why. Because we – well, _I_ – could get into a lot of trouble at work. Nobody's going to reprimand the famous Harry Potter for starting a relationship with a co-worker but I have to be a bit more careful." Ginny tossed down her fork and shook back her hair. "I can't believe him."

"Sorry. I didn't mean anything by bringing it up. I just thought you two were, well, happy now…" Hermione trailed off, aghast at Ginny's stormy face. "I mean, you've been in love with him for ages, haven't you?"

Ginny rubbed the heel of her hand against her forehead, then looked straight at Hermione. "No. I've been in love with Seamus." Ginny stood and picked up her bag. "He's the only person I've ever been _in love_ with," she said, and dashed out of the shop. 

Hermione looked dazedly after her, then grabbed her own things and ran after her friend. Ginny hadn't gone far, and was sitting on a park bench trying, unsuccessfully, not to cry.

"I'm sorry," said Hermione, sitting down next to her. "But I thought you were over Seamus. And frankly, so does Harry."

"I know."

"Ginny…what exactly is going on between you and Harry?"

Ginny took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before speaking. "I don't know. We have a good time together, it's everything I used to dream about and now that I have it I just…"

"Just what?" Hermione smoothed back Ginny's hair and placed a comforting arm around her. 

"I don't know if I want it," Ginny admitted in a low voice. "I mean, I should – what witch wouldn't? Especially me."

"Are you still in love with Seamus?"

"What does it matter? He's made his choice." Ginny didn't bother to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

"It matters to Harry," Hermione reminded.

Ginny began to feel annoyed. "Well, what did he expect?" she cried. "He's got to know he's the Rebound Guy. I mean, honestly – does he think I've just been pining away for him ever since I was eleven, and now he's made all my dreams come true?"

"So that's all it is to you, a rebound thing?" Hermione looked at her levelly.

Ginny stared back, then turned and shook her head, her hair falling into her face again. "I don't know," she finally said. "I don't see why it has to _be_ anything at this point. We have fun, we have a good time together – I'm really not anxious to jump right into another serious relationship. I don't see why we can't just enjoy things as they come."

Hermione actually looked amused. "You almost sound like a man."

"Oh!" exclaimed Ginny in exasperation. She ran her fingers through her hair and pulled it back, then turned her head to look at Hermione. "Is Harry upset? Did he say something to you?"

"No, he's not upset. He's pretty happy. But Ginny," said Hermione, looking more serious, "you ought to tell him if you're still in love with Seamus. It's not fair to Harry."

Ginny scowled. "Right. It's perfectly fine for everyone to assume I've been carrying a torch for him all these years and he can just swoop down and have me now he's finally ready. But if I'm not certain, suddenly that's not fair to _him_?"

Hermione raised one eyebrow. "Actually, I was going to say you're not being fair to yourself, either."

"Whatever." Ginny sighed heavily. "You're lucky to have Ron. Although, if you two don't hurry up and have a proper ceremony you're going to be common-law married before you know it. And Mum will definitely be displeased if she's deprived of a wedding." 

"Don't hold your breath," Hermione muttered, before returning the focus to Ginny. "When's the last time you heard from Seamus?" 

Ginny's voice was muffled, as she was now resting her head on her knees. "Over a month ago. He kept sending me owls but I never wrote back."

"Why not?"

Shifting position, Ginny brought her head up and when she looked at Hermione, her eyes were angry. "There was no point. He's made his choice. Better to make a clean break of it."

"But he's trying to stay in touch. I've never known him write to anyone, Gin. You must be the only person he's ever made this kind of effort for," Hermione said.

"Thanks," snorted Ginny. "Like I need reminders of what a run-around he can be."

Losing patience, Hermione snapped, "That's not what I meant and you know it. You'd better figure out what you want - it's not fair to anyone if you keep on like this."

"If I want to have a one-night stand with Harry Potter, that's my business." Ginny swung her bag over her shoulder and stood up. "You're not dating him anymore so what's it matter to you?"

Hermione flushed and frowned up at Ginny. "I'm still his friend. Harry hasn't dated anyone seriously in a long time. I just want to see him happy."

"Yeah." Ginny studied Hermione. "He hasn't dated anyone seriously since _you_."

Now Hermione was on her feet. "Maybe to you it was just a one-night stand but I think you know Harry well enough to know he doesn't work that way. He trusts you, Ginny, and if you don't have feelings for him you ought to tell him."

The two parted on rather frosty terms, Hermione returning to the Runic Institute. Ron had been putting in longer hours ever since the night Harry had summoned him down to his offices, when he'd first found Gabrielle. Hermione didn't really mind and found herself working late as well, even when she didn't need to. 

She and Ron had circled around the issues raised on the evening of their fight, but hadn't really resolved anything. Ron had returned home contrite - Hermione wondered if Harry had advised him to talk with her - and explained, "I've shared things all my life, first with my brothers, then with Harry. But I can't share you."

Hermione supposed she should feel happier about Ron making such a statement, but at the time she'd merely said, "Nobody's asking you to," and that had been that. 

Besides, Hermione told herself, it was a pointless discussion, not worth continuing. She didn't think of Harry as anything but a friend, and obviously he didn't harbour any romantic feelings for her anymore. 

She sighed and tried to concentrate on the scrolls before her. Harry had asked her to re-examine the imprint of the runes found on Gabrielle's talisman, see if she could be more specific in her translation. He was convinced Dumbledore had had some kind of information about specific dangers facing Gabrielle and had addressed these in the protection spell created for her. Hermione wasn't so sure. After all, Malfoy and his henchmen had still found her, hadn't they? All the talisman seemed to be able to do was keep her physically safe from them. 

**

As it turned out, Harry's theory wasn't far off. Hermione didn't know it, but Harry's visit to Malcolm Baddock had proved surprisingly helpful. 

"You again," said Malcolm on answering his door and finding Harry. "Come in."

Harry carefully shared select pieces of information with Malcolm, watching intently as each bit of news was dropped, gauging Baddock's reaction. "I want to know how Malfoy knew this girl was a Seer and how he got her," he finally said.

Malcolm's typical sneer was absent that evening, and his sarcasm seemed only an imitation of his usual bitterness. Clearly, something about this incident had troubled memories for him, too. "Well, for starters Seers are almost always women. And if you'd done a bit of genealogy research you would have noticed the girl's great-great grandmother was a Seer, too. Of course, you being the egalitarian Gryffindor, I'm sure you can't be bothered learning anything about magical lineage."

"That's why we keep Slytherins like you around, to do that kind of work."

Malcolm smirked. "But why, when Gryffindors will always accept much lower wages. Still, it's your money." He shrugged and continued. "Monsieur Delacour came from ancient pureblood families on both sides. It's all there, in Burke's Purebloods. The Malfoys would have been aware of Gabrielle's background, I'm sure."

Harry frowned. "But the Delacours are French."

Rolling his eyes, Malcolm stood up and retrieved a book from his shelf. Flipping it open, he showed Harry an entry. "Monsieur Delacour's own mother was from a long line of English wizards. See? Here they are."

Harry glanced at the page, not really caring what it said. "Fine. But how'd they know Gabrielle was the one? There's another daughter, too."

"If you have one or two Seers a generation, you're lucky. As I said, I'm sure they knew the likely sources, and kept tabs on the Delacours. Now as to how he nabbed her - that I don't know. My parents might, but since they've lost their minds in Azkaban I'm afraid they won't be much help." Malcolm's bitterness appeared to have come back full force as he uttered this last line.

Something the mediwitch had told him came back to Harry and he asked, "Do you think there's any chance the Delacours - or Gabrielle herself - were somehow involved with Malfoy or the Death Eaters?"

"Absolutely not. The Delacours and Malfoys loathed each other. If you spent any time in proper wizarding circles you'd know this," Malcolm noted with disdain.

Harry didn't respond immediately. A plan was hatching in his mind, but he knew it would require calling in a number of favours, and he wasn't at all convinced it would pay off. Nonetheless, he cleared his throat and said, "What if your parents weren't in Azkaban? Away from the influence of the Dementors, they might regain themselves and be able to tell us what happened. What do you think?"

Malcolm first appeared startled, then a slow smile eased across his features. Oddly, Malcolm Baddock smiling wasn't a pleasant sight, Harry noted. "Permanently freed?"

"No. They'd still be prisoners, just not at Azkaban."

"I'd have visiting privileges with them?"

"Of course."

Malcolm's smile faded. "Can you really make this happen, Potter, or are you just stringing me along?"

Harry stood up. "I can't promise anything, but if your parents can help me take down Lucius Malfoy, I'll do everything I can to reduce their punishment." He nodded at Malcolm and swept out the door.

**

Although it was dark by the time Hermione left work that evening, she had in fact departed earlier than usual upon remembering Crookshanks needed more food. Ron never kept track of those kinds of things. Hurrying down the pavements, Hermione tried to think where she would find a store open to get more cat food.

"Hey, Granger."

She stopped walking and froze in place. The voice was familiar, yet she hadn't heard it in years. Looking over, her stomach constricting, Hermione's suspicions were confirmed. Draco Malfoy leaned against the door of a gleaming sports car parked at the side of the street, and he was talking to her.

"Get in."

A small glint of silver shone against the darkness, attracting Hermione's attention. Looking more closely, she realised it was the tip of a wand, and it was pointed straight at her.


	6. The Lint of Love

Cherchez la Femme 6: The Lint of Love

__

"The lint of love comes from the dust of confusion." – Cibo Matto

Faced with a wand, her arms full of books, Hermione hadn't been in much of a position to refuse Draco's offer of a ride in his roadster. She obeyed him, and they zoomed off before she even had a chance to fasten her seat-belt. Draco had barely rounded the corner when he fiddled with a switch on the dashboard, and the car jumped from the congested streets of central London to an open motorway in an instant. 

Ignoring this flagrant violation of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts code, Hermione said angrily, "I don't know what you want from me, but you'd better let me go – it's late already, Ron will come looking for me." 

"It's not late," countered Draco, hitting the accelerator. "Decent people are only just finishing their cocktails before dinner."

"What would you know about decent people?" she spat, eyes on the road, which was zipping by uncomfortably fast.

"Enough to know Ron won't come looking for you." He turned and gave her an eerie smile. "Haven't been spending much time at home lately, have you? Neither has Weasley. Oh, no. He's been much too busy with other things," he said softly.

"Would you watch the road?" Hermione demanded.

Draco returned his gaze to the motorway before him. "Frankly, I can't blame him. I can well see how you've managed to drive away every man who's shown an interest in you – first Potter, now Weasley. Face it, Granger, everything your mother told you was true: men don't want a woman as smart you."

"Shut up. My mother never told me any such rubbish." Hermione looked at the heavy books in her lap and was tempted to bring one down on Draco's head, but then the car would crash. And it didn't take an advanced understanding of physics to know their speed would produce a spectacular collision should they hit anything stationary. "Where are we going?"

"Just for a drive. Oh, and don't get any clever ideas about Disapparating," he warned. "I've charmed the car so you can't Apparate or Disapparate from it - an added touch I thought you'd appreciate."

Hermione scowled. "Where'd you get this thing, anyway? Never thought I'd see the day when a Malfoy was reduced to using a Muggle car to get around."

But Draco was unperturbed. "As I'm sure Potter has told you, my parents have been forced to live as Muggles as part of their immunity deal with the Ministry. Father bought me this a few months ago, so I could visit them without drawing attention to them."

Hermione turned suspicious eyes on him. "But an enchanted car popping out from nowhere won't draw attention to them?"

"I only use magic in select situations."

"Weren't you officially barred from using magic, along with your parents?" she asked.

"Oh, no. There were never any charges made against me. Besides, even had there been, there wasn't much anyone could have done. I was a minor at the time my parents were charged, remember? No Azkaban for me." He smiled at her.

"Then why are you driving this thing?"

The smile faded. His voice sneering, Draco said, "It worked wonders getting hold of you. Weren't exactly expecting me to show up with this, were you?"

"I guess not," Hermione admitted, glowering and crossing her arms. "Why don't you tell me why you really wanted to see me. I'm sure there are other people you could use to sharpen your wit."

"So you admit I have wit?" Draco glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

"Well, something that passes for it, I suppose." Hermione bounced back against the seat. 

"Coming from you, that's practically a compliment. Admit it, doesn't spending all that time with the wholesome Weasleys wear on your nerves?"

"What have you got against the Weasleys?" demanded Hermione. 

"We don't have enough time to indulge that question, but I will tell you one thing. That boyfriend of yours is stirring up a lot of trouble, trouble that doesn't need to be made. Typical. Whole clan can't keep their noses out of other people's business. All that holier than thou crap wears thin after a while, doesn't it?"

"I don't know what you mean."

Draco snorted. "Of course you do. And you're going to tell me everything you know."

**

"Ginny, what exactly are you trying to say?" Harry sat uneasily in Ginny's flat, trying to decipher her evasive words and actions. For the past couple of days she had been distant and when he finally asked her about it, she'd started pacing around the room speaking in non-sequiturs.

She stopped pacing, took a deep breath and turned to face Harry. "I don't think we should see each other any more. I mean, see as in dating kind of see. I know we have to see each other at work." She groaned inwardly at her own words, knowing she was babbling.

"Why not? Look, I'm sorry I told Hermione about us. I should have been more discreet. I won't do anything that would jeopardize your position at work. Besides, you've completed probation, you're not under my supervision anymore - it's not like I'm taking advantage of a subordinate."

"Easy for you to say," scoffed Ginny, turning away. "You have more seniority than I do – hell, you have a magical holiday named after you. We're not exactly equals."

"Is that really what's bothering you?" Harry tried to catch her eye. "Have I done something to make you feel I don't see you as my equal?"

Ginny continued to avoid looking at him. "It's not so much that," she admitted. "I just don't see how we can work together if we're, you know…" Now she glanced up. Harry still appeared puzzled, and Ginny continued. "You know what our work is like - it's hard to assess a situation rationally when the person you're sleeping with might be in danger."

"Well, I'll just have to make sure you're never in danger," smiled Harry.

She didn't return the smile. "You can't do that, Harry," she said softly. "Nobody can. Besides, that's not the only reason."

"What do you mean?"

Ginny started pacing again, twisting her hands. She didn't want to continue, had hoped he would find her work conflict reason enough. "I'm not ready to get into another serious relationship again."

"I understand why you might feel this way," he assured her. "I'll give you as much room as you need." He got to his feet, came to her side and laid a hand on her arm. "I really want to give this a chance."

Ginny sighed. "I just - there isn't -" she stammered. "I can't do it, Harry," she finally said.

Harry removed his hand. "Can't do what?"

"Try to have a relationship with you."

Hurt and understanding spread across his features and he asked stiffly, "So the other night was just a one-time thing for you? Just for fun?"

__

Lie to him, Ginny told herself. It was much easier to leave somebody if you were angry, as she well knew. Forcing her voice to sound calm and nonchalant, she shrugged and said, "More or less. Like I said before, I don't want to get into anything serious." She made herself stare into his eyes and added, "I'm sorry if you got the wrong idea. I didn't think you'd take one night together so seriously." 

"You're really unbelievable, you know that?" Harry shook his head and took a step back. He didn't look angry so much as crushed, and Ginny wondered if she'd done the right thing after all. She had hoped he might take the opening and agree he hadn't wanted anything more, either.

"Don't get me wrong, I had a good time. But I don't think we should try to make something bigger out of it."

Now the anger kicked in. Harry flushed and he swiftly crossed the room to the front door. "Then I certainly won't disturb you any longer. Good-night, Ginny." He yanked open the door and slammed it shut behind him, without looking back.

**

Meanwhile, Ron was proving Draco wrong. He did notice Hermione's absence, at least in part because Crookshanks was meowing hungrily and wrapping himself around Ron's legs, a sure sign of desperation.

"Don't look at me," grumbled Ron. "I don't know where she is. Can't believe she'd forget about you, though."

He glanced at the clock on the wall, a gift from his mother. She had uncomfortably presented it to them when they moved in together and like the clock at the Burrow, there was a hand each for Ron and Hermione. The two of them had added a few indicators of their own, and Hermione's hand currently pointed to "Gallivanting around the countryside." Ron frowned briefly; he'd put that one on as a joke, knowing Hermione wasn't the gallivanting type. Still, the way she'd been acting lately it seemed possible she'd decided to go out, probably with Harry.

Scowling, Ron settled into his favourite chair and switched on the Wizards Wireless to catch the Quidditch scores. He was just moaning over Chudley's loss when someone knocked at the door. 

It was Harry and Ron had rarely seen him look so put out. "Get you a beer?" he asked, already heading for the fridge.

Harry drained most of the can in silence and with haste.

"So, what's wrong?" Ron finally ventured.

"Nothing." Harry glowered into the low fire. His first instinct had been to come over and talk to Ron and Hermione. Well, Hermione really. It now seemed too awkward to talk to Ron about Ginny. 

Ron regarded Harry curiously. "Thought you might be out with Hermione, actually," he offered, gesturing to the clock. "She's not back yet. Maybe she and Gin are having a girls' night out."

"Don't think so," was Harry's terse reply. 

Still puzzled, Ron continued to focus on Harry. Then his expression brightened and he asked, "Fancy a night on the beer? As you can see, Hermione's gallivanting about and frankly you look like you could use a few drinks."

Harry didn't disagree and followed Ron to the fireplace, where they set off for the Leaky Cauldron.

Watching them disappear, Crookshanks gave a disapproving mew. He jumped up on the mantel and stalked along it, tail whipping madly, sending a number of breakable items crashing to the hearth below. 

**

"What do you think I know?" asked Hermione, still in Malfoy's dark car.

"What's he told you about that Delacour girl? I know they've got her hidden somewhere and she must've talked. Now that damn Weasley is sending all sorts of people to bother my parents. And let me tell you, they are in no condition to answer the barrage of questions your boyfriend pesters them with. They've suffered, too, you know."

"I don't know anything about Gabrielle Delacour," answered Hermione truthfully. Ron hadn't talked to her about the case, partly because they were hardly speaking to each other these days but also because Gabrielle's statements were highly confidential.

"Don't play me for a fool," hissed Draco. "Between Weasley and Potter you must be right in the thick of things."

"Hardly. I should think your father could tell you everything you need to know. He's the one who kidnapped her, isn't he?" Hermione looked at Draco in the darkness. The illuminated dashboard reflected off his face with a reddish, unreal glow.

"My father was under the influence of You-Know-Who, as was my mother." Draco's voice rose a pitch and the higher tone, combined with the weird red glow gave him an unhinged look. "As they have testified before the Ministry, it was the Dark Lord who orchestrated everything!"

"Give me a break, Draco," snorted Hermione. "Your parents knew full well what they were doing. They've been getting away with murder - literally - ever since we were teenagers." She twisted in her seat and glared at him. "I hope whatever Ron's office is doing, that they bring your parents down. Make them pay for what they did."

Draco's fingers tightened around the steering wheel at her words but he stared straight ahead and said nothing for several minutes. Then, his voice very soft but perfectly clear he said, "You want to watch your mouth, Granger. Don't make this harder on yourself or you'll regret it, I promise." 

"Is that supposed to scare me, Draco? After your earlier show of wit I'd expect more than idle threats from you."

"It's far from an idle threat, I assure you. Take any action against me - or fail to put an end to your boyfriend's insufferable curiosity - and I'll personally make certain he's in a world of pain." He took his eyes off the road briefly to look at her, adding, "And you know I can do that, don't you?"

Although Hermione had recently entertained thoughts of inflicting bodily harm on Ron herself, it was one thing to think such things towards one's own boyfriend in a fit of pique. Hearing Draco Malfoy - whom Hermione knew was perfectly capable of performing the Cruciatus curse - threaten Ron with harm was quite another, and sent a shiver down her back.

Hermione swallowed the retort that was on her lips. She hadn't been that disturbed by Draco up to now; he'd seemed concerned with not crossing the line enough to put his own or his parents' immunity in jeopardy and thus had done nothing more than threaten her. But he now regarded her with an expression of such malevolence that Hermione looked away, and wondered just how far Draco intended to go as they continued to drive into the night.

**

Many drinks later, Ron and Harry stumbled back into Ron's flat, each expecting to see Hermione. The only one to greet them, however, was Crookshanks. With increasingly distraught mews, he trotted from the living room to his dish in the kitchen and back again.

"Think he'd eat owl treats?" asked Ron.

"I think he'd eat anything from the looks of it." Despite having consumed more than his usual share of drinks, Harry felt concern cutting through his alcohol-induced haze. "Ron, where's Hermione? It's after midnight. Even she doesn't work this late."

Ron's eyes travelled to the clock. "Still gallivanting, I guess." He shrugged and disappeared into the kitchen to try and appease the hungry cat.

"I think something's wrong," Harry persisted, following him into the kitchen and slumping into a chair at the table.

"Well, we did have a fight a few weeks ago. Been a bit tense around here ever since, to tell you the truth," admitted Ron slurringly. 

"What?" Harry frowned across the table at his friend. "No, I mean, something's wrong now. I think something bad has happened to Hermione."

"Can't be that bad. Her clock hand isn't on Mortal Peril."

"Just because she's not in mortal peril doesn't mean there isn't something wrong. You need to get some finer gradations of danger on that thing." Harry shot Ron a disgusted look. "And don't you care if she's okay? I know you had a fight, but what's new? It's what you two do."

"This was different." Ron shifted in his seat. "Frankly, I thought she might be with you tonight."

"With me? Why?"

Ron shook his head. "Long story."

Harry watched Ron intently, as if hoping the harder he stared the better he'd be able to read Ron's mind. "There hasn't been anything between us in years, you know that."

"I'm not so sure," replied Ron. "At least, I'm not sure she's completely over you."

"That's ridiculous. She moved in with you, Ron."

"Don't be surprised if she moves back out. Wannanotherdrink?" Ron lurched towards a cupboard and grabbed a highball glass.

"No thanks." Harry watched Crookshanks gnawing on the odd assortment of food Ron had given him. "I'm going to find her, and then you two can work this out."

He stood up and began walking for the door, wishing he had a bit better motor coordination. "I can't believe you'd just let her go like that," he added, stopping and turning back to Ron.

"Harry, you're drunk. What're you going to do, get on your broom and fly around looking for her? Just have a seat. I'm sure she'll be along soon."

"I'm an Auror. I have a whole tracking network at my disposal," pointed out Harry with as much dignity as possible, considering he had an unsightly beer stain down the front of his robes, which were hanging off his shoulders and looking worse for the wear.

"Great. Knock yourself out." Ron remained seated and waved Harry to the front landing, where he Disapparated with a louder than usual pop.

**

Harry had hoped a quick visit to the Auror offices and deployment of a Seeking charm would easily locate her. But the visit wasn't quick, and Harry's anxiety over Hermione's whereabouts increased in direct proportion to his increasing sobriety as the hours passed. Only a few things, such as Dark Magic, could block the Seeking charms used by his office. A little before dawn, the charm finally showed her to be right outside the British Museum. Harry promptly Apparated to the location to find her sitting against the high walls, knees to her chest and looking dazed.

"Harry," she said on seeing him and she hadn't even minded his stained shirt or the fact that he hadn't shaved in twenty-four hours as he pulled her tightly against him in a relieved hug. 

"What happened to you?" he asked, prising her fingers from his wrinkled shirt and smoothing back her hair. "I was with Ron tonight - er, last night - and you never came home. He said you two had some kind of fight?"

"It wasn't that," Hermione gasped. "I left work a little before eight and Draco Malfoy turned up in a car he'd enchanted and held me at wandpoint and made me get in." She took a breath then continued, her voice returning to her more normal tone, "He's convinced I know what Gabrielle has said about his parents, threatened me if Ron takes further action again Lucius and Narcissa. Harry, what is going on?" She finally asked, looking at him.

"Well, Gabrielle's memories have produced some spectacularly incriminating evidence against Lucius Malfoy. That's what's going on. Lucky you didn't really know anything."

"Oh yeah, really lucky. He kept me out all night, demanding I tell him everything. I guess he finally believed me because he brought me back here. But towards the end he did start to scare me, Harry. He seems completely obsessed with stopping Ron, and I think he'd do anything - even if it means his own downfall - to keep his parents out of Azkaban."

"So he didn't actually harm you, just made threats?" Harry clarified.

Hermione nodded. "Like I said, he clearly didn't want to do something that could easily translate into charges against him. I guess he was hoping he could scare or threaten me into giving him the information, or stopping Ron from carrying on." She rubbed at her eyes tiredly, then looked up, as if noticing him for the first time. "Harry, you look terrible."

"Thanks. It was a long night."

"You two were looking for me?"

"Something like that," Harry muttered. He felt a wave of anger again at Ron for not being more concerned. "Let's get you home."

Hermione didn't protest and still seemed dazed. Harry wondered if Draco had placed a Confundus charm on her or modified her memories, she seemed so out of it, but she still seemed to have perfect recall of the night's events and he chalked up her disorientation to shock and fatigue. 

"Look, it's not even five o'clock," she observed as they reached her building. "I can take a nap and still make it to work this morning."

"Hermione, there's no way you're going to work today," said Harry, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. "If anything you should be coming with me to make a complaint against Malfoy."

"No." Hermione spoke firmly. "It's not his threats," she added quickly on seeing Harry's face. "But honestly, there's not much to tell. I got into the car with him, we drove around all hours and then he returned me to where we started. What's criminal about that?"

"He's done quite a few illegal things. For starters, you didn't want to get into that car with him!"

"I know, but I was so surprised I didn't even try to run away. I just got in." Hermione seemed amazed at herself even as she spoke. "Really, though, just let it drop. I've certainly dealt with worse things than Draco Malfoy's sarcasm; he's been insulting me for years. Besides, I have a feeling Draco on the loose might be more helpful to you than Draco locked up."

Nodding, Harry said, "I know what you mean. But if leaving him alone means compromising your safety -"

"It doesn't." Hermione's crisp tone ended the discussion. "How's Ron? Is he upset?"

Harry glanced up at the windows of the terrace. "I owled him when the Seeking charm found you - I'm sure he'll be anxious to see you, so let's get upstairs."

Hermione gave Harry a penetrating look, and he wondered if she knew he wasn't telling her everything about Ron's reactions. "Thanks for coming after me," she said.

"Least I could do. You've helped me out of enough tight places over the years," he smiled back at her. "Listen, Ron is probably out of his mind with worry."

"I doubt that," Hermione said, a note of bitterness entering her voice that Harry rarely heard. 

"So you had another fight. You always make it up," he said, touching her arm awkwardly. "Come on, I'll go up with you."

Hermione shook her head. "No, go on home. You look a little rough yourself. I'll talk to you later today."

"Promise you won't go into work?"

"I promise." She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks again." Then she turned and walked inside.

"So you're fine, then." Ron was sitting in the living room when she walked in, a blanket at his feet on the sofa where he had apparently spent the night, looking only marginally better than Harry.

"Yes." Hermione hesitated, then crossed the room and sat next to him. She wearily recounted the night's events, leaving out Draco's threats, knowing Ron would insist she press some kind of charges. 

"Maybe you shouldn't work so late anymore," he said when she finished.

Although exhausted, something about the way he just sat there, the fact that the only thing he could say was 'don't work so late' and the complete absence of anxiety over her safety all combined and filled Hermione with a fresh wave of energy. "Maybe you should have come looking for me! Didn't you care at all, Ron? Did you honestly think I was gallivanting about all night long? Why was Harry the one to come find me and not you?"

Ron shrugged. He'd been asking himself similar questions. "I do care about you," he answered. "Harry and I – we – that is to say, we had a few drinks," he muttered, feeling more sheepish by the minute.

Hermione glared. "Are you telling me you were too drunk to come look for me yourself?"

That was exactly what he was trying to say, but somehow, when she put it that way, his actions seemed much worse than they had last night. Ron's temper flared as well and he snapped, "The clock didn't show you being in any danger. You're always so bloody self-sufficient, why shouldn't I think you were alright? You certainly don't need me to look after you!"

Hermione's quick anger ebbed away and she felt on the verge of tears. "Is that how you really see me?" 

"Look, you've had an awful strain and I've had no sleep." Ron stood up and tossed his blanket around Hermione's shoulders and patted her in a brotherly fashion. "You go to bed. I've got to go to the office, but I've already made arrangements with Harry to have special security placed on the flat, so you'll be okay."

Hermione was on the verge of telling Ron that he was also in danger, but the way he was acting depressed her so much she suddenly cared only for sleep. Tugging the blanket around her shoulders more tightly, Hermione nodded and shuffled off to the bedroom. She fell asleep almost instantly, her last conscious thoughts of Crookshanks and remembering he still didn't have food.

**

Harry had barely sat down at his desk when he was summoned by Sirius to visit Gabrielle, who had inexplicably shattered every breakable object in her room.

"Shouldn't Ginny handle it?" Harry struggled to avoid yawning at Sirius' face in the fire. "She's in charge of security."

A puzzled expression flashed across Sirius' face. "She told me to contact you. Anyway, I don't care which of you comes down as long as it's soon. She's going berserk. Even the medical staff are afraid to go near her."

"I'll be there right away." Harry sighed, wishing for a shot of Pepper-Up Potion, although he knew even that wouldn't truly cure his hangover. 

Gabrielle's fit of destruction was short-lived, and was over when Harry opened the door to her room. Instead he found her attempting the Repario charm on the shattered figurines and glassware scattered about the room.

"What's the matter, Gabrielle?" he asked gently, coming into the room.

She looked up, seemingly on the verge of tears. "Look at this!"

"Your mother and Sirius are worried about you. They said you broke everything you could. What's this about?"

Her expression shifted from almost childlike frustration to one of irritation. "These figurines are ugly. I cannot have ugly things around me," she began, sounding astonishingly like Fleur. 

"And the water goblets? Those were ugly too?"

"No. I just…couldn't stop." Gabrielle sat down on the edge of her bed and regarded her glittering bedroom floor. "And now I can't make the stupid spell work properly to fix them all."

Harry moved closer and now stood in front of her. "This doesn't seem like you, Gabrielle," he said, gesturing to the trashed room. "What is it? Did you remember something new?"

She looked up at him, and Harry noticed the blue-tinged circles beneath her eyes, saw how the hollow look had returned to her face. "It's in my mind all the time. Every night, I dream of the things I saw, the things they made me do. It is no better when I am awake," she explained. "For so long I did not remember anything and now my head is too full."

"Why didn't you say anything? Any of the medical personnel would be glad to help you."

"It is too difficult to explain. I just _see_ it all, I can't explain it." She regarded him with eyes full of both frustration and pleading.

"Just a moment." Harry Apparated downstairs and requested a Pensieve be brought up to Gabrielle's room. Moments later, the head mediwitch appeared, beaming, a Pensieve in her hands. 

Harry nodded his thanks and once again he and Gabrielle were alone. "I think you may find this very useful," he began, and explained how it worked. 

Gabrielle listened carefully and at Harry's urging touched her wand to her temple, and transferred a memory to the cloudy basin. An image swirled, then took shape. Harry watched with keen interest, mingled with a fair amount of apprehension. Having read Gabrielle's medical reports he had an idea of what she'd been though, but the image that appeared made even Harry draw in a sharp, surprised breath. Narcissa Malfoy appeared before them, bending appealingly towards him and holding out a hand.

At the first sight of Narcissa, Gabrielle began to shake uncontrollably. Harry, fearing another shower of broken glass, calmed her down and put aside the Pensieve for later viewing. He then summoned the mediwitch, who gave Gabrielle a tranquilising draught. 

"I'll keep an eye on her," promised Harry. Once certain Gabrielle was asleep, he returned to the Pensieve. By the time he emerged from viewing the memories, he too, felt shaky and disturbed. No wonder Gabrielle had destroyed her room – the kinds of memories she was recovering made Harry want to go out and do damage as well. At least now he knew how she'd been kidnapped. With a last glance at the ghostly figure of Narcissa, Harry swirled the contents of the Pensieve until all that remained was a cloudy mass at the surface of the bowl.

**

"I hate her."

Harry jerked his head up at the sound of Gabrielle's sleepy yet bitter voice. "How long have you been awake?"

"Just now. I assume you saw it all?" She asked.

He nodded. "Yes. Gabrielle, I don't even know what to say –"

"Then don't. I'd rather not think about it anymore." She sat up and ran her fingers through her long hair. "I haven't seen you very much lately. You have been busy, no?"

"I have." Harry nodded impatiently. "Listen, these memories – is there anything else you haven't told me?"

Gabrielle didn't respond, and Harry looked at her intently. He realised with alarm her expression had changed once again. She looked both older and younger than he'd seen her before, as she said, "You really cared for her, didn't you?"

"What? Don't try to sidetrack me, Gabrielle." Harry tried to catch her eye, but she seemed focused on something far away.

"But she made a different choice."

"That could apply to a number of people." Harry tried to laugh, the memory of his last conversation with Ginny still painfully fresh in his mind. "You'll have to do better than that, Seer."

"Still, if you share an affinity with each other…" Gabrielle lapsed into silence, and Harry got the uncomfortable feeling she was seeing something again, something he couldn't register.

"Stop the Trelawney crap and answer my question. What's got into you today?"

At the sharp tone of his voice, Gabrielle's aura of confidence vanished. The authority that had streamed through her moments before was utterly gone, leaving her looking merely young and puzzled. "What is Trelawney crap?"

"Nothing. How do you know if you share -" Harry broke off, disgusted with himself. "Oh, never mind."

Gabrielle now looked amused. "You _know_. You feel it, here." She reached out a hand and touched Harry's chest, at the base of his throat, and spread her fingers along each side of his collarbone. 

Harry jumped in spite of himself, for at her touch, heat streaked through him like a shock. 

Still smiling, Gabrielle took his hand and placed it on her own chest, over the silver pendant. Harry tensed, expecting another jolt, but instead felt only heat beneath his fingertips, as the pendant grew warm and seemed to burn against his touch.

He jerked back his hand and pulled away from Gabrielle. Her face was unreadable but her blue eyes no longer had that flat, glossy look he had seen so often; now they gleamed brightly at him. 

"You're playing with me," he said at last and moved away, towards the door. "This is just your Veela instinct or something."

"Harry, wait." She watched him for a moment, then asked, "Do you know much about my ancestors, the Veela?" 

He smiled and relaxed for the first time since entering her room. "Just what I've seen of the ones who are mascots for the Bulgarian Quidditch team."

She shook her head impatiently. "No, no - that is crass commercialism. I am talking about the original Veela, hundreds of years ago. Tradition has it that a Veela becomes the spirit-sister of a hero or warrior, and protects him in battle."

"Too bad I didn't know you when I was at school," joked Harry. "I could have used all the help and protection I could have got when fighting Voldemort."

Gabrielle was not amused. "I know. I felt it, even then. Another power granted the Veela is the responsibility to choose the dead. In my case, of course, I was not allowed to choose; that decision had already been made. I was used only to ensure the chosen ones did die."

"Choose the dead?" Harry tried not to sound incredulous. "How is that possible?"

"It does not happen so much anymore. But in battles, some must die. And Veelas saw which ones were to go. Very few part-Veelas, or even full Veelas, today can do this. Since I am a Seer, however, I have this ability. I suppose it is what made me so attractive to the Death Eaters." She explained all this tonelessly, and Harry surmised she had spent a fair amount of time pondering her strange talent. "I could bring down their most powerful enemies."

Harry sobered. "Dumbledore?"

Her eyes seemed very large and he had never seen her look so solemn as she shook her head and said, "No. You."

"Me? But I didn't die." Harry jumped to his feet and stared. "Are you saying you were supposed to help kill me?"

She nodded. "Yes. But it didn't work. It couldn't work."

"Why not?"

"Because I am your spirit-sister, Harry. Our souls are aligned, share a kind of affinity. I think Dumblydorr knew this. As long as I was alive, you were afforded some protection, even though I was unable to give you the full benefit of my powers. The talisman kept me safe - and by extension, you."

Harry still looked baffled. "I don't get it. How could you choose the ones to die?"

"I told you, I didn't get to choose. They - the Death Eaters - did. I just saw how they could be killed, and the Death Eaters carried it out. Except for one."

She opened her mouth to continue but Harry found he didn't want to hear what she had to say. "No!" he interrupted. "You don't have to say anything."

"But -"

"No." Harry sat down abruptly and stared at the swirling Pensieve. "You've been through enough today, Gabrielle. I don't want to push you," he said and stood up. "Do you want to keep this in here?" he gestured to the Pensieve.

She nodded, face still stricken. Harry frowned, then quickly dashed downstairs. He tried to turn his mind away from it, but Gabrielle's unspoken words came to him anyway. The Death Eaters had tried to use her to kill him.

**

"It's ironic, really," reflected Hermione. She sat in Harry's living room, feet tucked comfortably under her as she sat on the couch. "That one of the people integral in saving you was also being used to try and destroy you."

"I just can't believe it. I mean, I know she didn't do it of her own volition but still…"

"That's just it, Harry. It wasn't really her. Those Death Eaters - Voldemort really - were completely channeling her powers. You can't look at it as if she did any of this from her own free will."

"How am I supposed to look at it, then?" he demanded fiercely, then dropped his voice. "I didn't even think Seers could kill with their divination."

"They can't. That's what I've been telling you. Since her powers were untrained, except in Dark Magic, the Death Eaters just used her as a kind of generator in a lot of ways, tapped into the magical energy she had, which was quite considerable. As she told you, she could foresee the ways to kill people, see their vulnerable moments, and the Death Eaters just waited for the right moment."

"I know, but -" Harry stopped talking and stared at the print on the upholstery of the furniture. After a few minutes he spoke again. "I told you about seeing Dumbledore's Pensieve, but looking at Gabrielle's was different. Seeing those things - " he shuddered. "It's a weird kind of intimacy."

"Intimacy how?" asked Hermione, her voice tentative.

"Not like _that_," he said quickly, noticing her expression. "Gabrielle is like a little sister, someone you want to protect. And after what I've seen… I just wish I could have got to her sooner." He shook his head sadly. 

Hermione didn't say anything, but placed a comforting arm across Harry's shoulders.

"Do you think _he_ knew?" Harry bounced his fist against the sofa arm and didn't look at Hermione.

"I don't know. Not a lot got past Dumbledore, so I suppose he might've had an idea. There were a lot of people working to protect you. Gabrielle included."

"That's what she says." Harry looked at Hermione, his face anguished. "But how can I believe someone who, by her own admission, was part of an attempt to kill me, who in all likelihood helped bring about Dumbledore's death?"

"You can't think like that." She tightened her grip around his shoulders and moved closer.

For a moment, Harry relaxed against her familiar touch. There were few people with whom he felt he could let down his guard, and Hermione was one of them. But just as quickly, he stiffened, leaned forward, and rested his head in his hands. Eventually he said, "Gabrielle told me something else, Hermione. Well, she didn't tell me so much as show me. In the Pensieve."

"What?" Hermione removed her arm and watched Harry worriedly.

For the past few minutes Harry had been running his hand through his hair absent-mindedly, and it now stood out on end. "I probably shouldn't tell you anything at all – but you've already heard so much, I suppose you should know," he said, speaking more to himself than Hermione. "You said Draco mentioned his parents. What exactly did he say?"

"Just that they had suffered too, and they were in no condition to withstand more interrogation from the Ministry," Hermione replied, growing more concerned by the minute.

"He didn't say anything about his mother?"

Hermione considered. "Not that I recall. Why?"

"All this time, I've thought it was Lucius who was behind kidnapping Gabrielle. He certainly headed up the Death Eater activities, but based on what I saw today, I think Narcissa is the one we need to watch. Not only did she kidnap Gabrielle, she engineered some of the most horrific crimes Lucius carried out."

"Narcissa Malfoy?" Hermione drew back in surprise. 

Harry nodded. "I saw it all." He was about to explain exactly what he had seen when Ron's face appeared in the fireplace.

"Hermione. What are you doing at Harry's?" he asked, clearly annoyed.

"What does it look like, Ron?" she snapped, not bothering to approach the fire. "I'm talking with him. What are you doing – checking up on me?"

"First you complain when I don't come after you, now you're angry when I do?" Ron shot back, both of them ignoring Harry. "I was worried when I came home and you weren't here."

"Well, now you know where I am. I'll be home later."

"I think you need to come home now."

"Don't you tell me what I need to do!" Hermione jumped to her feet and yelled at Ron. "You never care if I'm home or not –why the sudden concern?"

"I hate arguing with you over the fire," he complained. "If you're going to yell at me, at least do it in person." And with that he disappeared.

Hermione remained standing in the middle of the room, fuming. "He makes me so angry."

"Maybe you ought to go and sort things out," suggested Harry uneasily.

She turned and snapped at him, "There's nothing to sort out. All we do is snipe at each other. I know we've always bickered, but this is different. I can't stand being in the same place as someone who is really, truly angry at me. All the time. The only thing left to work out is when I'm moving."

Harry crossed over to where she stood. "Move out? Are things really that bad?"

"Yes." Hermione moved away from him and grabbed her bag. "Though come to think of it, why should I move? _He_ can find a new place."

"Hermione, wait." Harry dogged her steps and grabbed her arm at the front door. 

"What?" She turned to look at him, eyes still blazing. 

Harry's grasp faltered and he swallowed, as both of them became aware of just how close he was standing to her. "If you do - that is, if you need a place to stay, you can always stay with me."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I appreciate it Harry, but I don't think it's a good idea. Ginny won't be very happy to find you've got your ex-girlfriend living with you, not to mention she'll be doubly unhappy once she finds out I've split with her brother."

"She won't care." 

"Trust me, Harry. No woman wants her boyfriend living with his ex." She made to move away again, but Harry held her back.

"That's just it. I'm not her boyfriend." Harry laughed shortly. "She's made it very clear she wants nothing to do with me."

Hermione set down her bag and stared at Harry in confusion. "Nothing to do with you? But I thought –"

"It doesn't matter. Point is, if you need somewhere to crash, you can call on me. Ron might not be happy about it, but we're all friends, right?"

"Right. Friends," Hermione repeated, turning once again to the door. "I'll owl you later," she said and hurried out. 

Once outside the flat, Hermione leaned against Harry's door, heart beating fast. She'd rarely heard him sound so bitter, and wondered what Ginny could possibly have said to him. 

And it wasn't right she should feel almost relieved at his announcement there was nothing between himself and Ginny. Just because her relationship with Ron was crumbling apart was no reason she should begrudge anyone else happiness. Yet as she recalled how annoyed she'd been with Ginny earlier, and thought how Harry had looked at her just now, Hermione felt an uncomfortable heat rise in her heart. Sighing, she moved outside to the spring twilight. Considering how good she was at deciphering ancient runes it seemed unfair she should be so lost when it came to interpreting Harry - or herself.

****

Thanks go to Wotan for the beta-read. Stay tuned for yet more complications in everyone's love life, and find out what that pesky Narcissa has been up to… Is Draco really just a big mama's boy, or does he have another reason for protecting her and his father?


	7. New Visions and Old Flames

Cherchez la Femme 7: New Visions and Old Flames

A/N: Sorry for the long delay in getting this chapter written. I was out of town and came back to a veritable avalanche of messages from Iggly Wiggly, who seemed most anxious for chapter 7. I don't know if anything I've written has inspired such um, devotion, so thanks for your impatient patience! Hope you feel this was worth the wait. And continued thanks to the rest of you who've been following this saga. I thought this would be the final chapter but, as you'll see, not quite. Shout-outs too for Wotan, the indefatigable beta-reader.

Cherchez la Femme 7: New Visions and Old Flames

After Hermione's dramatic exit from his flat, Harry expected to hear from her again, and soon. But several days passed without a word. Harry wondered if he should contact her, and had been on the verge of doing so several times yet never actually followed through. If she and Ron had patched things up, he didn't want to stir up any trouble by barging in. 

Harry had just returned from an evening's work when he saw the flames in his fireplace leap up. He quickly crossed the room, expecting to see Hermione's face. Instead, Ron's head appeared.

"Ron?" Harry hoped he didn't sound too surprised.

"Yeah. Listen, Harry, I guess Hermione's told you about how we're –"

"Right, yes, of course," cut in Harry, feeling very awkward.

Ron's face relaxed slightly. "So I was wondering…"

"You don't have to ask, of course she can stay here."

"Huh?" Ron appeared puzzled, then said, "No, I was actually going to ask if I could stay with you 'til I find a new place."

"Oh. Of course. Of course you can stay," Harry stammered. "Come as soon as you like."

"Great. I'll be over soon." Ron gave him a tired smile then disappeared.

Harry slumped into a chair and stared at the flickering flames, then let his gaze roam around the flat. It was a bit on the cluttered side at the moment, but he had a feeling Ron wouldn't care. 

Ron appeared a short time later, looking chagrined. "Thanks again," he said, setting down his things. "Got to stick together, don't we?"

"I guess so," agreed Harry, still a little dazed at the turn of events. "But what about Hermione?"

"What about her?" Ron's voice turned harder as he swung his feet up on an ottoman. "Got any beer?"

"I think so." Harry checked the kitchen and returned with two cans. Handing one to Ron, he took a seat opposite and contemplated his friend. Ron had been his best friend ever since that first train journey to Hogwarts, so many years ago. As they had grown older, however, Harry had realised he and Ron held decidedly different views when it came to women. He'd been frankly surprised when Ron and Hermione started seeing each other two years ago, although he'd known Ron had long had feelings for her. 

Harry had thought Ron's usual behaviour with girlfriends seemed unlikely to work with Hermione, whose idea of a good time involved more than watching Quidditch and spending time in bars, unlike many of the girls Ron had dated since Hogwarts. The two of them now seemed prime examples of how what can be accepted in a friend becomes unacceptable in a lover. 

"So what happened?" Harry asked.

Ron gave a resigned shrug and swallowed some beer. "She's still not over you."

"That's ridiculous, Ron. You two have been dating for a long time. And she and I broke up an even longer time ago."

"Who really understands the mind of a woman, Harry?" Ron asked rhetorically. He drank some more, then muttered, "We should never have gone back for her."

"What are you talking about?"

"That first Halloween. If we hadn't gone back for her I bet we'd never have become friends and this whole situation might never have happened." Ron glowered at his empty beer can.

"You reckon we should have left Hermione for the troll?" Harry asked, not believing Ron meant it.

"Yeah, I do. She's clever enough, would have figured out something. It just wasn't meant to be."

"Maybe you two weren't meant to be, but that doesn't mean we should have abandoned her," retorted Harry. "She was just a little girl. Hell, we were all just stupid kids. You honestly think we should have turned our backs on her just because Hermione mastered _Wingardium Leviosa_ before you did?"

Ron gave a short laugh and shook his head. "See," he said softly, "you still do fancy her. Listen to yourself - defending her and arguing with me, your oldest friend. Besides, we weren't stupid, we were pretty good. Did knock out a fully-grown Mountain Troll."

Harry shot Ron a look of only partly mock annoyance, then grinned resignedly. "Stop talking rubbish about Hermione and get us another beer, you useless git."

Ron readily complied, and was thoughtfully pouring Harry's drink into a large mug he'd charmed frosty, knowing Harry preferred a glass, when Hedwig let out a loud shriek, causing Ron to spill beer all over himself. Harry merely jumped up and opened the window to let in the large tawny owl whose appearance had aroused Hedwig's territorial ire. He snatched the letter from the owl and unfurled it, scanning the contents.

"Who's it from?" asked Ron, dabbing at his robes with his wand and ineffectively attempting a stain-removing charm.

"Gabrielle."

"She's not having nightmare memories again, is she?"

"No." Harry was already in motion, tossing together a change of clothes and Summoning his broom. "Now she's seeing the future."

Harry bent over the kitchen table and scribbled a quick note to Ginny, telling her he'd be gone for two days and to cover for him at the office. After rolling up the parchment, he gave it to Hedwig for delivery. 

Turning to Ron, Harry said, "I've got to go take care of this, so the place is yours. Try not to get too crazy." He grinned before moving back to the living room and into the fire, uttering the latest password to Sirius' unlisted floo.

**

Harry tumbled into the plush sitting room, his bag and broom preceding him onto the floor. 

"_Zut_." 

"Bless you," said Harry automatically, still on his hands and knees. He'd never really mastered floo travel, preferring to fly or Apparate whenever possible. But since the enchantments on the house preventing either of those means of travel, he had no choice but to use the floo network.

"I was not sneezing! Look at you - every time you come 'ere it is one big cloud of soot."

Harry picked himself up and saw Fleur regarding him with disapproval. "Hello to you, too," he muttered, brushing off his robes and reaching for his things. "Where's Sirius?"

Fleur snorted. "Where he usually is zese days, with my mother."

"Not jealous, are you?" Harry chuckled.

"Of course not. Why would I be jealous?"

"No reason. Just that you're used to having all the handsome men chase after _you_."

Harry regretted his flip tone when he glanced over and saw Fleur looking at him like he was prey. "Gabrielle is anxious to speak with you," she announced frostily. "I will tell Sirius you are 'ere."

Watching Fleur walk away, Harry acknowledged she did have a flair for dramatic exits, always managing to have something swirling about her, whether it was her hair, her robes, or in this case, both. Shaking his head, he proceeded directly to Gabrielle's room.

"You came so quickly," she said as he walked through the door.

"After that message you sent, how could I not?" Harry answered, taking a seat. "This is the first prediction you've had since escaping from the hospital, isn't it?"

"Yes." Gabrielle appeared too agitated to say anything more, much as she had when the flood of memories had first returned to her.

"Is there any way you can just show me what you see, so you don't have to talk it through?" Harry asked. Somehow, he didn't think a Pensieve would work to hold visions of the future.

"Not really." Gabrielle started to shake her head, then stopped. Looking thoughtfully at Harry, she said, "But for you, maybe there is a way. Come stand by me."

Harry obeyed.

"Put your hand on the pendant," she instructed, and he again complied, feeling the metal grow hot under his hand, but this time the sensation didn't make him jump as it had done the first time. "I haven't actually done this charm, but my tutor said I showed unusual aptitude, considering my limited training, "Gabrielle said. "Anyway, I'm really counting on our affinity to make this work. _Colligo._"

Harry felt the heat increase and spread rapidly from his hand through his arm and then warmth flooded his body. As Gabrielle touched her own hand to his chest, Harry experienced a jolt, and then he wasn't seeing anything in the room. Instead he seemed to be outside.

He blinked against the bright sun, which cast a blaze of obscuring light in the direction he wanted to look. The scene became clearer to him as his eyes adjusted, but this clarity was of little comfort. What Harry saw, and sensed, was a scene of destruction as bad as anything he'd witnessed when Voldemort himself was still in power. Harry could see figures lying about in a manner that suggested they'd been victims of Avada Kedavra, but couldn't make out their identity. However, he felt an overwhelming sense of loss - as powerful a feeling of devastation and hopelessness as a Dementor could inspire. He strained to discern the figures again, and as he did so, the sense of loss increased but still he could not see who was dead.

Eventually Harry did see a figure he recognised: himself. It was a strange thing to see yourself being tortured, Harry decided. His mind alternated between suturing completely with the scene of horror before him and knowing that he was only seeing a vision, something that had not yet been made real. But it seemed real enough, and the emotions Harry sensed his future-self experiencing were as vivid as anything he had been through in reality. He wanted to tell himself to fight off the curses, but felt himself becoming ever more drawn into the scene, until he wasn't sure if he was hearing his future-self screaming for mercy or if the sounds were coming from him right now. 

The blazing light that had blinded him from clearly seeing his attackers lifted just then and Harry saw his assailants: Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. In that split-second of recognition, the pain let up for a moment and from the corner of his eye Harry saw another person appear. The Malfoys glanced away from Harry; the figure was Gabrielle. She was running towards him, and suddenly more people came into view, voices shouted in confusion, and a sense of chaos replaced the pain.

Gabrielle broke the connection sharply. The force of the disconnection, combined with the shock of what he'd seen, sent Harry reeling across the room. He leaned over, hands on his knees, breathing heavily. He could feel sweat across his brow and his legs were shaky with the kind of adrenaline rush that made him feel both relieved and victorious at once again escaping the Death Eaters and Voldemort.

"Are you alright?"

Harry raised his head and nodded at Gabrielle. "Fine," he said, making his way over to a chair and sitting down, his shaky legs belying his words. Taking several deep, gasping breaths he looked at her more closely and asked, "Are you always this unmoved after a vision? How can you stand it, seeing those things?"

"It is not easy," she admitted. "In this case, I had already seen it before, so I knew what to expect. But when I do See, such visions leave me very tired."

Having got his breath back, Harry shifted in the chair and said, "Gabrielle, when you see things - is there only one future you see? I mean, how can you know for certain that's what will happen?"

"I don't know what it is like for other Seers who are not of Veela descent. I see what is possible." She shrugged.

"But if a detail is changed, mightn't that alter the outcome of your prediction?"

"I know it is hard to accept what you have seen. But I think this vision is accurate. Whether I like it or not, my Seeing powers were honed by Lucius Malfoy and of course, Narcissa. I remain particularly attuned to their workings and plans. I didn't try to see it, Harry, it just came to me." She shuddered and added with a sigh, "Again, I suppose it came because for so long I was their eyes into the future. I can sense when they are planning something big."

"Right, but do you think this is the _only_ outcome, what you saw?"

Gabrielle smiled slightly. "As I said, I see what is possible. Sometimes there are multiple possibilities, yes. But don't you also recall what I told you before, that Veela have the privilege of choosing the dead? This time I am choosing. I want those two dead, no matter what it takes."

Harry stared. "Lucius and Narcissa?"

"I cannot personally kill them, but I can see how they could be killed. You, however, have enough magic and the training to do such a thing. You have killed before, I believe?"

"Yes, but that was completely different. That was _Voldemort_." When Gabrielle failed to appear pacified Harry continued. "You know, most evil wizard ever?"

"These two would love nothing better than to succeed him in that title. I have seen what they intend to do, and stopping them is simple: we kill them."

"Gabrielle, I'm not denying they did terrible things, but you can't start playing Vigilante Veela."

"It is my right," she insisted stubbornly. "You've seen the Pensieve, you saw Narcissa take great delight in telling me over and over exactly how she killed my father, you saw what they did to me. I'm surprised Draco was even allowed to live - his mother seems the type to eat her young."

"Speaking of Draco - does he figure into this at all?" 

Gabrielle shook her head, perplexed. "Not that I've seen. It's odd. From what you told me, he seems to be taking pains to prevent his parents from being punished for his actions, and they are doing the same to ensure he knows nothing of theirs." 

The puzzlement left her face as she returned to her point. "As long as they are alive I will always have this strange link with them. I don't want it. They are the worst people to call themselves witch or wizard that I have ever met."

"Maybe, but that doesn't give you the right to take justice into your own hands," Harry argued. "There's a system we have to follow."

"I do not care about your stupid system. I do have the right - it is my ancestral right."

Harry removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Sorry to be the one to break it to you, but the ancestral rights of Veela don't carry much weight any more." He slid on the glasses again and said, "I agree we need to stop them, but what we need to work on is a plan, not a vendetta. I'm going to call a meeting with Sirius and the other Aurors here, and we're going to spend today and tomorrow strategising."

He stood up to go but Gabrielle moved swiftly to the door, blocking Harry's way. "Why did you come here if you don't intend to help me?"

"As I keep telling you, I do want to help. But I also want to keep you out of Azkaban. Trust me, Lucius and Narcissa aren't worth that kind of sacrifice." When Gabrielle still refused to move Harry sighed and said, "Look, I'm not saying they won't be killed. It could happen, in the line of duty. I'm just saying we're not going in there with the intent to kill. Okay?"

Gabrielle appeared somewhat mollified. "Okay. And I suppose it would be a shame to deprive that red-headed friend of yours the opportunity to prosecute them."

Harry smiled and opened the door. "Now you're talking. If anybody has a right to make the Malfoys pay, it's Ron."

**

Ginny didn't bother to look up when she heard a rap at her office door two days later. "Come in," she called, busily scribbling away on a roll of parchment. "And Harry if that's you I'd advise you to duck because –"

"It's not Harry."

Ginny stopped talking and jerked her head up at the sound of that voice. Seamus stood in the doorway, broomstick in hand and looking slightly windblown but still grinning at her in that familiar way he had, as if anyone might have flown directly from Hong Kong to London just to say hello.

"I thought you said it was too far to fly on your own," she said faintly, staring from his face to the broomstick.

"Well, I didn't do it non-stop," he replied. "Stopped off in Cyprus for a rest. Saw your brother Bill and his new place, the new Gringotts' offices there. He says hello," Seamus added helpfully.

Ginny remained seated. Her body felt oddly paralysed – she wanted to move, to leap over her desk and run to Seamus, but she seemed rooted to her chair. "Why did you come back?" she finally managed to ask.

"Do you have to ask?" Seamus' smile flickered and went out, like the flame of a candle just snuffed. 

When Ginny said nothing, but simply continued to stare, Seamus spoke again. "I know I may be a bit presumptuous in coming here," he began, swallowing. "I know when I left we said it was over. For all I know you're seeing someone else. But I – I guess I had to know."

"Know what?"

"Whether you still loved me."

"Seamus, how can you ask me that? How can you leave like you did, then turn up unannounced and ask me that?" Ginny put her hand to her mouth and shook her head. 

"I'm sorry. I should have owled ahead, but you haven't returned any of my earlier owls. Is there – is there someone else now?"

"So much has happened since you went away. You can't just walk in here and think we'll pick up where we left off."

Seamus sagged against his broom and looked dejected. Running a hand through his hair, he said, "So there is someone else." 

At that moment, Ginny's door swung open again. "Before you even start, let me explain –" started Harry. He came to an abrupt halt as he took in the scene before him. "Seamus?"

"Harry." Seamus nodded at him, then glanced to Ginny, who had managed to stand but remained stationed behind her desk.

Feeling like she had walked into an unpleasantly complicated French novel, Ginny sat back down and braced her chin against her hands. She opened her mouth to speak but before she could form any words, Seamus said brusquely to Ginny, "I'll be in town for at least a week. You know where to find me," and with a curt nod at Harry, left the room.

"Ginny? You okay?" asked Harry uncertainly.

Ginny raised her wand and slammed the door shut. "Do you care? Think you can just go away for two days and not tell me anything except some cryptic message, then swan in here with one of your breezy excuses? Think you can take me for granted? Good old Ginny, always around. Always available for Harry Potter. Well, in case I didn't make things clear enough before, those days are over!"

"Are you finished?" Harry demanded. He'd been startled when Ginny began her tirade, but as it continued found himself simply angry. " I know I asked you to take a lot on faith in this situation, but I would have done the same for you. That's the way this job works - you don't always get nice, careful explanations about everything. And I don't know what Seamus was doing here but if you've got a problem with him, sort it yourselves and don't take it out on me."

"Get out of my office," snapped Ginny.

Harry turned to go. "When you've got hold of yourself, I _do_ have something important to talk to you about. Just in case you were wondering where I've been the past two days."

"What's wrong?" asked Sirius as Harry returned to his own office. Harry had put Sirius on as official staff; he'd been doing so much free-lance work already it made more sense to just hire him outright.

"Ginny's in a foul mood because I've been incommunicado the past couple of days. Didn't even give me a chance to tell her about Gabrielle. Oh, and Seamus is back in town, apparently. Found him in her office. And she accuses _me_ of not taking care of business," he muttered.

"Sounds like you two do have some unfinished business," pointed out Sirius.

Harry shook his head and sat down behind his desk. "I've got enough headaches right now without opening that up," he said. "Have you heard anything more from Gabrielle?"

"No. But everything is under control," Sirius said, watching Harry closely. "We've got extra surveillance on the Malfoys. Listen, you and Ginny have been silently feuding for two weeks now. Why don't you talk to her, get this settled once and for all?"

"Oh, it's settled already," replied Harry grumpily. "She's made that pretty clear."

"She does have a right to be angry - especially considering much of what was discussed the past two days deals with Gabrielle's security, which Ginny is in charge of," observed Sirius.

"I was going to brief her on that but she kicked me out of her office." 

"You two have been friends a long time - don't you think you owe it to each other to get past this? At least so you can work together effectively?" Sirius gave Harry an encouraging smile, which quickly faded on beholding Harry's stubborn expression. "Look, you had to have some idea she might still be hung up on Seamus when you took her out. Was it really such a complete surprise?"

Harry shook his head and looked away for a moment. Turning his attention back to Sirius he said, "I guess not. It's not really the fact that she may still have feelings for him that gets me so upset - I just can't believe she would use me that way. You know, sleep with me just to see what it's like." As he reached the last sentence Harry looked down and was almost muttering as he spoke. He glanced up to gauge Sirius' reaction, then continued, "If I wanted that there's plenty of other witches I could have gone to. Never expected it of her."

"Why don't you talk to her about it, then?"

"Since when are you the expert on relationship maintenance?" Harry demanded, finally cracking a smile.

Now Sirius appeared embarrassed, but not much. "Well, the past few months have given me a bit more contemporary expertise. But honestly," he added, looking less mirthful, "I've known you and Ginny a long time now - I don't think she'd do something to deliberately hurt you. Go and see her. Nothing's happening on the Malfoy front right now, and I'll let you know if anything new develops."

Seeing there was no way Sirius would let him off, Harry grumblingly got to his feet and headed for Ginny's office. 

"You again?" she said by way of greeting. 

"I think we should talk."

Ginny chewed on her lip, then, heaving a dramatic sigh, gestured for him to step inside and closed the door. "Okay, you're here. Talk."

Stifling his quickly rising irritation, Harry said, rather formally, "I realise I walked in at a bad time earlier. I'm sorry about that, and for not giving you more information about where I was the past two days."

"That's a start." Ginny still regarded him suspiciously, but then her look softened and she admitted, "I guess I did take things out on you. Seamus kind of caught me off guard. But Harry, you can't just drop out of sight like that and leave me in the dark."

"Actually, I can," he started, then hastily changed course as her eyes lit up again with anger. "I can," he corrected, "but I should have kept you better informed, since you work on the project too. I guess I'm just used to doing everything on my own. And after what's happened between us…well, I wasn't sure you'd want to be put in a situation where you'd have to work that closely with me."

"You're still angry with me over that night, aren't you?"

Harry felt heat suffusing his face and he spoke stiffly. "I'm over it."

"No, you're not," she said shrewdly. Ginny pulled out one of the chairs in front of her desk and took a seat, indicating Harry should do likewise. Exhaling gustily, she said, "Harry, I wasn't completely honest with you."

"You don't have to explain," he interjected.

"I do, actually. When I told you our sleeping together was just a one-off, that it didn't mean anything, well, that wasn't quite true. It was meaningful to me, but it also made me realise that I -" She stopped, looking awkward.

"That you still loved Seamus?" Harry finished for her.

Ginny nodded. "I just told you that stuff because I thought it would be easier if you were angry with me. Of course, that line of thinking totally backfired on me because then things between us became even worse. I'm sorry."

Harry had been watching her intently but now looked away for a long minute. Still staring at the wall, he said, "I never meant to take you for granted. If there's been a time when I made you feel anything like how you've made me feel, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I just was -"

"Oblivious, I know," finished Ginny. "The whole of Hogwarts seemed to know I had a massive crush on you yet you remained sadly clueless. But what happened between us - Harry, please don't think it was just an experiment on my part. That evening you were so sweet to me, and I'd been so confused ever since Seamus left, it just seemed like a kind of extension of our friendship. I'm sorry I couldn't give you more."

Harry inspected his shoes and said, "Don't apologise for that. I guess I missed my chance by about five years." He looked up and gave her a smile. "Seamus is lucky. And I'd feel lucky to still be your friend."

"You know you are, even if you do act from time to time as if you're taking lessons from Ron," teased Ginny.

"Well, he is staying with me now, you know. Bound to have some influence on me." Harry grinned and glanced at his watch. "You want some lunch?"

Ginny did. Over lunch, Harry quietly filled her in on Gabrielle's vision and the plans to stop it from happening. "She couldn't see any of the others who might be involved, but she said that might come later. I told her to owl me immediately, just with the names on the parchment. So don't make any weekend plans - things could change at any moment." 

"This would have to happen the week Seamus comes back to town," sighed Ginny, but at least she was able to persuade Harry into going shopping with her to find a present for Seamus, a peace-offering of sorts.

**

Ginny found it difficult to concentrate that afternoon, what with the news of Gabrielle's disturbing vision and worrying over where she stood with Seamus. The gift she had chosen now sat wrapped in her desk drawer. She didn't even know if Seamus would accept it, given the circumstances under which he'd left that morning, but decided she at least had to give it a try. 

Although she could have talked to him directly, Ginny decided to first contact Seamus' secretary to see if he'd receive her. For all she knew, Seamus had left her office, gone to his own and promptly blocked her from accessing his office floo. Filled with dread, she rose and walked to the small fire that burned in her office, and within seconds Miss Hathaway's face appeared. Feeling foolish, Ginny said, "This is Ginny Weasley. Is Seamus Finnigan there?"

"Just a minute, please, I'll put you right through."

The flames shifted and now Ginny found herself staring at Seamus. 

"Ginny? You wanted to see me?" 

Seamus, she noted with relief, appeared more puzzled than angry. Ginny paused. There was so much she wanted to say, but she couldn't begin to organise it all. It was the same way she'd felt when faced with replying to one of Seamus' owls - there was too much to say, so she'd ended up saying nothing at all. "I think we should talk," she finally said. "Seamus -"

"Yes?"

"There's nothing between Harry and me. I think you got the wrong idea. Well," she added, honesty kicking in, "We did sleep together but only once and only because I was confused about you and then he got mad at me because he thought I was using him but I wasn't and - oh, maybe we should just talk in person," she concluded, breathless from her run-on sentence.

"Yeah, that might be best," Seamus agreed, his expression difficult to read.

"Come over to my place when you're done at Gringotts," Ginny instructed, and stared into the fire as Seamus' face disappeared.

**

When Ginny opened the door for Seamus that evening she felt suddenly bashful, as if it were their first date again, yet there was also something completely familiar about his presence.

"How's Miss Hathaway?" she asked conversationally, closing the door and taking his travelling cloak.

"Great, as usual. A little surprised to see me, but she hides it well."

"She won't be popping round to inform you of any last-minute banking matters, will she?"

Seamus smiled. "No, of course not."

Even though they were engaged in pointless chatter, something about the way Seamus smiled, even the way he spoke such mundane, meaningless words melted Ginny's heart. Melted it so much, in fact, that she suddenly felt self-conscious about standing too near him, afraid he would somehow be able to sense the strength of her feelings by mere proximity.

Thus, they stood awkwardly apart, until Ginny conducted him to the sofa, and then they sat awkwardly, he on the couch and she in a chair.

"So, you wanted to talk?" Seamus finally ventured.

"Yes. Yes, I did." Ginny licked her lips nervously and wondered where to begin. Just looking at him sitting before her made Ginny feel she'd been incredibly stupid to ever let him go away, stupid to have never answered his letters, when here was the one person in the world who had the power to make her feel both happier and sadder than anyone else. Here was the one person who could leave her tongue-tied before they'd even had a conversation because she wanted him so much.

She looked down at her knees and noticed idly how far apart she and Seamus were sitting.

"Ginny, I missed you." Seamus filled the conversational void by coming straight to the point. "I meant what I said earlier in your office. I had to see if there was any chance you still wanted to be with me. And I'm assuming, by what you told me over the fire, and the fact you asked me over, that you do have some interest in trying again?"

Ginny had been struggling to find just the right words; strangely, Seamus' direct, plain speech left her unable to say anything at all. She raised her eyes to his and nodded, and suddenly the distance between their knees was not so great after all. In fact, any distance between them soon became quite non-existent, as they fell upon each other with a fervor never before witnessed by Ginny's new, chintz-covered sofa. Such unbridled passion was satisfying at the moment, although Ginny was later to regret having never mastered the button-sewing charm her mother had so often tried to teach her. Mrs Weasley always insisted it came in handy, but just how useful Ginny had never before appreciated.

Several hours later, while sitting with Seamus and taking turns eating an entire container of mint chocolate chip ice cream - the only food on hand - Ginny dropped her spoon, jumped to her feet and exclaimed, "I almost forgot! This is for you." Summoning the wrapped gift from her bag, she handed it to Seamus in exchange for the ice cream spoon.

He unwrapped it and, turning it over in his hands, said appreciatively, "This is a brilliant piece of kit. Where'd you get it?"

"Well, Harry helped me pick it out," Ginny admitted.

"Harry?" Seamus pulled back.

"Don't get upset. I asked him to help me. Honestly, Seamus, he's the one who got the short end of the stick here. And you _did_ ask him to keep an eye on me." Ginny leaned appealingly against his bare shoulder.

"I suppose I did, but only because I thought he had no interest in you. I mean, if he could resist you all those years when you were throwing yourself at him -"

"I was not!" Ginny protested, then reconsidered. "Alright, maybe I was, but I was only sixteen."

Seamus smiled lecherously. "If you'd got to know _me_ at sixteen you wouldn't have been such an innocent."

"I don't doubt that," returned Ginny with a grin. "However, things didn't work out that way and now you've got a top-of-the-line magical navigator for your broom. See, it shows where you're going, plus gives flying conditions in three time zones."

"It's great," Seamus agreed. "Too bad I won't get much use out of it."

"What? Why not?"

"Ginny," Seamus said, more softly. "I came back because I couldn't stand to be without you. I don't care what the job is, nothing is worth being away from you again. I'm going to resign my post and see if they'll reassign me here."

"But you can't. Your career -"

"Isn't as important as you are. I only left in the first place out of pride, and spent the whole time I was away regretting it."

"I don't know what to say." Ginny stared down at the melting bits of ice cream still stuck to the container. "What if I had said I was with Harry? Would you still want to come back?"

Seamus nodded. "I think so, yes. I just have this feeling about us, Ginny. That we belong together. I gave up way too easily before, and I'm not about to do it again. Ever."

Ginny looked up at the strength with which he said the last word. "So you're coming back for good?"

"That's right. Happy?" Seamus smiled down at her, but Ginny noticed the remnant of uncertainty behind his eyes.

"Very." She leaned over and kissed him, trying to put into the kiss all the feelings she'd had and been unable to articulate. She might now always be able to find the right words, but Ginny did know the body language necessary to banish any lingering doubt Seamus might have. 

So absorbed was she in this work that Ginny failed to notice, let alone hear, Harry calling tentatively from the fire. "Hello, anyone home?"

"What's that?" muttered Ginny, tearing herself away from Seamus for a moment and glancing in the direction of the sound. "Harry?"

She pulled her bathrobe more tightly around her - somehow it had become very loose indeed - and walked over to the fireplace. Seamus followed, his initial chagrin at the interruption changing to amusement when he saw Harry's embarrassed face.

Harry took one look at Ginny in her bathrobe, and Seamus wearing very little and clapped a hand over his eyes. "I would have owled but it's urgent, and I didn't dare write."

Ginny laughed and shooed Seamus away to the bedroom, then turned back to Harry. "What's happened?"

Emergency or no, Harry still glanced about the room in embarrassment. "I'm assuming you two sorted things out?"

"Yes, I'll tell you all about it," Ginny nodded impatiently. "What's so urgent you're willing to witness Seamus in his underwear?"

"Remember what I told you at lunch? I just had an owl from Gabrielle. Her parchment has two names on it: Hermione's and Ron's." Harry looked grim. "I want both of them moved to Sirius' house. Do you mind escorting Ron? I'll get Hermione."

"I'm on my way." Ginny jumped up.

"Oh, Ginny?" Harry called out casually, breaking the serious mood. "You might want to put on your Auror robes as opposed to a bathrobe. Be a little more professional in your dress."

Ginny glanced down and realised her bathrobe was gaping open at her chest a bit more than was desirable. Making a face, she tossed a handful of Floo Cleansing dust at him and said, "Nothing you haven't seen before, I'm sure. Now go away and let me get dressed."

Harry laughed as the dust hit the flames, causing his image to vanish with a dramatic burst of blue flame. Ginny, meanwhile, steeled herself for her greatest diplomatic challenge yet: telling Seamus he'd have to get a rain-check for the rest of the evening.


	8. No Friend Like a Sister

Cherchez la Femme 8

Cherchez la Femme 8: No Friend Like a Sister

"For there is no friend like a sister…to lift one if one totters down, to strengthen whilst one stands."

- Christina Rossetti

Narcissa Malfoy stood at the large, aluminum-framed windows of the garish Muggle house in which she now lived and stared at the fast-approaching darkness. It had been years since she'd seen Malfoy Manor, the cold, stone edifice that had once intimidated her so much. But compared to this environment – white-painted walls, unimaginative window treatments, lacking even a ghoul – Narcissa longed for her old home. Soon the secret that had held her back would be obliterated. Soon, she could return home.

**

Meanwhile, in the quiet of Sirius' living-room, Hermione and Ron blinked at each other in surprise. This was the closest they'd been to each other in days and neither looked particularly comfortable at being left alone together, despite both Harry's and Ginny's assurances that this action had only been taken for their safety.

"Where's Harry gone?" fretted Hermione, looking past Ron to the doorway, although she had no reason to expect to see him enter the room any time soon. He and Ginny had gone off immediately with the other Aurors to strategise. Hermione had noticed how awkward both of them had been at bringing herself and Ron together again. Harry, of course, had heard the whole story from both sides, and Hermione guessed Ron had talked to Ginny on the way over, for she had given Hermione an apologetic shrug when she walked in with her brother.

"He'll be back," Ron said dully. He kept sneaking looks at Hermione, conflicting emotions running through him. On the one hand he felt an odd kind of relief at seeing her again, but at the same time even looking at her was painful, and he kept dropping his eyes and giving her monosyllabic answers.

A long silence passed, during which Hermione picked nervously at non-existent lint on the sleeve of her robes. Finally she asked, "How are you two getting on, then?"

"Fine." Ron looked up again at her question, studying her bright brown eyes, which to him appeared animated with a mixture of uneasiness at being around himself and at wondering just what was going on.

Harry hadn't said anything to them except, "Stay here," when he ushered them into the room and just as quickly withdrew. Given all that had transpired in the past few months, however, both of them could guess that something major had changed regarding the Malfoys and Gabrielle. How it pertained to themselves, however, remained unclear.

"Hermione - " Ron started, just at the same moment she said his name. "You first," he said.

She shook her head. "No, you."

"Okay." Taking a breath, Ron said, "I'm sorry about the way everything turned out. I guess I let you down, and well…I'm sorry," he repeated.

Now Hermione was the one who didn't look up as she said, "Thanks for letting me stay at the flat. I know it's probably inconvenient for you, having to find a new place…"

"Don't mention it." Ron tried to catch her eye but her gaze remained downcast. Sighing, he added, "Besides, it would be worse, coming home and you not being there. What would I do with all that space? Better that you have it."

Hermione gave him a sad smile. "I wish things had worked out differently, but -" she tossed up her hands and shook her head.

"They didn't, " he finished. 

Another long silence threatened to settle over them, but then Harry returned, followed by Ginny, Sirius, and the Delacours. Gabrielle looked tired but her eyes snapped brightly as Harry explained to Ron and Hermione the content of her visions. "So that's why we had to bring you here," he concluded. "It's the only safe place I can think of."

"But Harry, how could any of this have happened?" Hermione asked, glancing around the small group. "Even before you put the extra surveillance on the Malfoys, surely they had regular visits from Ministry supervisors. I really doubt they could have kept magic of this magnitude hidden."

Both Harry and Ginny looked grim. "Clearly, there's been a security lapse," sighed Harry. "That's how it happened. But I still can't work out what they want."

"It is obvious," asserted Fleur. "Zey want my sister."

"They also appear to want Hermione and me," pointed out Ron. "Any bright ideas about that?"

Fleur gave him a condescending glance. "I am sure you 'ave annoyed many people. I still do not see why zese Malfoys were not sent to Azkaban," she added, now glaring at Ron as if he were personally responsible for this oversight.

"Because nobody could provide definitive evidence against them, and because they agreed to assist the Ministry in rounding up loads of other Death Eaters and because _they_ provided definitively damning evidence against those who were prosecuted," Ron answered between gritted teeth, looking annoyed as he always did when anyone raised this issue. 

Hermione remained focused on her original question. "But it just seems impossible they could have devised some grand scheme as Gabrielle describes. What if it's a trap to get Gabrielle back in their clutches so they can kill her? Or you, Harry."

Harry had considered this possibility himself. "Maybe so. But what she showed me –" he broke off with a shudder. "It wasn't that simple. There was a sense of evil I haven't felt so strongly since, well…" he trailed off, knowing everyone would flinch if he said Voldemort. 

Hermione stood up and began pacing around the coffee table. "But it doesn't make _sense_," she insisted. "Whatever they're plotting, they've got to know they'll be facing slews of Aurors. I don't see how the two of them could have that much power. I mean, their wands were snapped and even if Draco managed to smuggle in some replacements, there's no way they could get strong enough results from some cornershop wand."

Sirius had been watching her pace and now he stood up, put his hands on Hermione's shoulders to stop her pacing, and guided her back to her seat before saying, "Lucius and Narcissa have no doubt remained well-connected with what remains of the Dark Side. They could have bought wands on the black market that were a good enough match for them."

"But how?" Hermione turned to face Sirius, then looked at Ginny and finally Harry. "I thought you said when the Ministry officials – and certainly the Aurors – check up on them they always perform spells to detect the presence of magic. Surely such a check would reveal something as basic as wands?"

Ginny began explaining her own theory, but Harry wasn't listening. Instead, he thought back to the last time he'd sought the aid of his chief informer, Malcolm Baddock – and his parents. Even removed from the presence of Dementors, the elder Baddocks had descended too far into insanity to provide any information. Malcolm had been silent throughout the meeting. At the time Harry hadn't thought much of it, had assumed he was disturbed at seeing his parents in their current state. But now he wondered.

"I've got to go," he said abruptly, standing up and moving towards the fireplace. "I'll be back within the hour," he added, as the assembled group began talking to him all at once.

**

When he reached Malcolm's front door, Harry didn't bother knocking, just pulled out his wand and sent the door flying open dramatically.

"What the hell –" Malcolm appeared in the foyer, his own wand raised. When he saw Harry standing in front of him, he didn't lower the wand. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Shut it, Malcolm," ordered Harry, reaching behind with his free hand and slamming the door. "Let's go." He gestured ahead to Malcolm's study.

"This is my house, you know," shrilled Malcolm, but he was already marching forward, Harry's wand trained on him.

Once seated, both of them lowered their wands, and Harry said, "You didn't tell me everything you know about the Malfoys, did you?"

"Of course I did."

"You didn't." Harry leaned forward, eyes boring into Malcolm. "What did they do – offer to cut you in on it? Can't work out why else you of all people would pass up a chance to help take down the mighty Malfoys."

"You have no idea what you're talking about." Malcolm shook his head. 

"Who is it?" Harry pulled his chair closer to Malcolm. "Someone from the Ministry has been helping them, covering for them. Who?" he raised his voice at this last question, staring at Malcolm.

Malcolm shrugged and looked away. When he turned his attention back to Harry, the nervous expression had gone from his face and his arrogant smile had returned. "Could be a lot of people, couldn't it?" he asked, reaching for his cigarettes and lighting up. "Could be that Weasley girl-"

"Don't play games with me," warned Harry, gripping his wand more tightly, his voice quiet and cold. "You know as well as I do no Weasley would ever help a Malfoy."

But Malcolm remained unperturbed. "Could be your godfather," he continued, as if Harry hadn't interrupted him. "Sure, he was acquitted, but most of the magical community still thinks he's a dark wizard. He's in the perfect position to give them all the information they need about you and –"

Harry's hand snaked out and shoved Malcolm against the back of his chair. "I said, who is the Ministry official who's been playing both sides?" he growled. "Stop wasting my time."

Malcolm's blue eyes opened wider and he began to sweat nervously under Harry's grasp. "Back off," he managed to say, but the haughtiness was gone and when he fumbled for a new cigarette his hands shook. 

"Nothing doing," hissed Harry, but he sat back in his own chair and pointed his wand straight at Malcolm. "Talk."

Malcolm hesitated.

"_Talk_," Harry repeated, and Malcolm opened his mouth.

"It's more than one official," he said quickly. "The witness protection team assigned from the Ministry? All corrupt," he said with a wave of his hand. 

"Why didn't you tell me any of this before?" Harry demanded, getting to his feet and indicating Malcolm should do the same.

"You didn't ask." Malcolm slouched ahead of Harry, towards the front door, at which point Harry placed a Binding curse on him and set off to the Auror offices.

After depositing Malcolm and dispatching a team to investigate the officials Malcolm had named, Harry went to his own office, thinking quickly. Based on what he'd just learned, Harry wondered if any of the Aurors at Sirius' had been involved in covering for the Malfoys. Malcolm hadn't indicated this was so, but he certainly wasn't the most reliable source. Still unsure just what he intended to do, Harry gathered up a few items from his office and prepared to return to his friends.

**

"Lucius, he's here," Narcissa's crisp voice announced. She pulled her robes over the Muggle clothing she wore reluctantly, and stepped quickly from the house to the car driven by her son. 

None of them spoke as Draco drove them away from the tidy streets of the suburbs. Nor did they speak even after they reached the countryside, and the familiar spires of St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies appeared on the horizon. 

Draco put the car into neutral just beyond the entrance gates and turned off the headlights. "Where are the Aurors? The mediwizards?" he asked, glancing nervously out the window.

"They'll be along," Narcissa assured him.

"You're sure this is what you want?" Draco asked, now turning his gaze to the formidable hospital buildings. "I know you hated that Muggle house but at least there you were free. I brought you wands, I could bring you more things - I just can't believe you'd rather be shut up here."

"It's better this way," his mother said. "At least here we'll be among magic."

Draco turned to his father. "You're certain?"

Lucius glanced ever so quickly at his wife, then addressed Draco. "Yes. Now do just as we told you and proceed directly to our old holiday home in the Languedoc. Hospital policy says no visitors for the first month."

"The time will pass sooner than you think," added Narcissa, looking unusually happy considering she was about to enter a mental institute.

Draco nodded, wondering if perhaps this was for the best. His mother had taken to driving around the countryside ever since being forced to live as a Muggle. Initially she'd had him drive her, but lately she had insisted on being alone, and her behaviour - not to mention his father's - had become increasingly odd the past few weeks. 

A tap on the window revealed a waiting Auror, whom Draco vaguely recalled seeing during some of the routine Ministry visits to his parent's home. Draco said nothing to his parents as they climbed out of the car and began walking away with the Auror; then the darkness swallowed them up completely and he drove away.

**

Gabrielle fell back with a gasp, her hand going automatically for the talisman at her throat. 

Harry, who had tumbled from the Floo only seconds before, jumped to his feet and lunged across the room. "Gabrielle, what's wrong? Can you hear me?" he asked, as Gabrielle turned more glassy-eyed than he'd ever seen her, even during her strongest visions. "Ginny, get the mediwitch - _now_," he added, as Gabrielle slid down the sofa and lost consciousness.

Everyone in the room had moved towards her at the first sign of distress, but now Sirius laid a hand each on Madame Delacour and Fleur, holding them back. "Let them handle it," he murmured as the medical staff rushed in.

Ron and Hermione jumped back to make way, but Harry remained at Gabrielle's side, holding her hand and speaking to her. Sensing the mediwitch nearby, he said, "_Do_ something for her."

But the witch shook her head, looking down at Gabrielle. "Can't. She's in a trance state. I don't dare interfere with a Seer in a position like that. Just hang on to her."

Gabrielle gasped again, and just as quickly as she'd sunk into the strange state she seemed to snap out of it, sitting up and leaning an arm against Harry's shoulder, her right hand still grasping at her talisman. She choked and drew a jagged breath, almost like someone who has been swallowing water instead of air. "The Slough," she finally said.

Ignoring her words, Harry gently unpeeled her hand from its vice-like grip on the necklace, and as Gabrielle unclenched her fist everyone started. Her hand was blistered where it had touched the metal, and the locket had fallen open. What they saw inside made them gasp a second time. The ringlet of hair had turned grey.

"Hermione?" Harry looked to her in confusion. "Any ideas?" 

Before Hermione could respond, Gabrielle repeated, "The Slough. That's where they are." She began to speak quickly and the indeed, the more she said the stronger she seemed to become. "We can get them now. They are vulnerable, I can feel it. We must get them now, Harry." 

"Easy, Gabrielle. We're not killing them, remember?"

She snatched her injured hand away from the mediwitch, who had been healing the burns, and crossed her arms. "Then they will kill you. After they finish killing your friends," she added, glancing at Hermione and Ron.

Ignoring this outburst, Harry turned again to Hermione. "The runes?" he asked, gesturing to the necklace.

"Nothing should be able to interfere with the runes' protective powers," Hermione said slowly. "The only thing I can imagine is the Malfoys have somehow located an immense source of magical energy, something to rival the energies surrounding this talisman." She looked at Gabrielle, frowning, and turned her attention back to Harry. "She keeps saying they're at the Slough."

"What's that?" asked Ron, still eyeing Gabrielle's sizzled lock of hair nervously.

"The Slough of Despond. I've only ever read about it. I didn't think it really existed."

"It exists," gasped Gabrielle. "I can take us there."

"How?" asked Ginny, practically. "You don't know how to Apparate, and if nobody knows where this place is – or if it even exists – we certainly can't create a Portkey for it."

"It exists." Gabrielle spoke authoritatively. 

"And she can Apparate." Harry was regarding her with new interest. "The first time I met you, you just vanished. You must have Disapparated, but how?"

Gabrielle shrugged. "I do not know how I do it, only that I can."

Hermione, who had been half listening, now joined the conversation. "Harry, if Lucius and Narcissa have been able to generate Dark magic powerful enough to affect Gabrielle in this way, then she's right - they could kill you. And us," she added, swallowing. 

Ron snorted. "Not if I get to them first."

"Nobody's killing anyone," said Harry, raising his voice above the din. "Ginny and I will go to this Slough place and sort things out. Sirius will stay here and keep an eye on all of you."

Predictably, this pronouncement pleased no one except Madame Delacour, who had appeared on the verge of nervous collapse ever since her daughter had fallen into the trance.

"Harry, you can't do this all on your own," Hermione finally announced in a voice that reminded him of their schooldays. "Even with Ginny helping you, that's not enough. I know you don't trust the other Aurors at this point, but you can trust us. And Ron and I _have_ had a bit of experience over the years."

"As have I," added Sirius dryly. Everyone turned to look at him. He'd been so quiet they'd nearly forgotten about him. "The Slough is supposed to enhance Dark Magic. Rumours were flying that You-Know-Who finally located it right before he met up with you for the last time." Sirius nodded at Harry. "But the stories also said he was such an egomaniac he enchanted it to prevent his followers finding it. Guess he didn't want to share. Lucky thing for us, in a way, because if all the Death Eaters had been able to benefit from its powers I don't know what would have happened. If that's where Lucius and his wife are, you're not going without me."

Gabrielle nodded eagerly. "I'm certain Lucius and Narcissa are there."

"It makes sense," admitted Ron. "If they're plotting some new attack, they would want to tap into an energy source like that. Sounds like we'll need all the help we can get."

Harry turned to Sirius. "I want at least one person here I can trust and who's capable of taking on experienced Death Eaters, if they decide to break in here. If what Malcolm said is true, the Malfoys could get in with the aid of a corrupt Auror, and Fleur and Gabrielle's mother, the medical staff and others would be in danger. If we're not back within an hour's time, come to the Slough - and bring backup."

Sirius had looked annoyed at the prospect of staying back, but now he glanced at Madame Delacour and his expression softened. "Alright," he agreed. "I'll hold down the fort - for now. But if you're not back I'm coming after you."

**

Following Gabrielle's instructions, the group Apparated to the Slough. Although they all knew they were within a fairly heavily populated area, the immediate landscape gave no hint of any human habitation. Only the light of the moon saved them from landing in complete darkness. Even so, everyone chorused "_lumos_" as soon as they arrived.

"The Slough of Despond," said Hermione in a hushed tone, directing her wand's light at the horizon and the large bog immediately in front of them. "Whoever thought it really existed, let alone was located so close to Heathrow Airport?"

Fleur wrinkled up her nose. "It looks like a giant pit of mud to me," she observed with disgust.

"That's what Muggles see if they get near," Hermione informed her. "But like Sirius said, the Slough is an intensely magical ground. For Dark Arts, that is," she added with a shudder. "Can't you feel it?"

"Are you suggesting I only see as ze Muggles do?" Fleur demanded. Hermione shook her head and was about to respond when Ron broke in.

"I still don't see why _she's_ here," he grumbled, looking at Fleur. "She couldn't even protect Gabrielle against Grindylows."

"That was _ten years ago_," hissed Fleur indignantly, forgetting about the Slough for a moment. 

"Be quiet, all of you," ordered Harry, stepping between Ron and Fleur. "We need to let Gabrielle concentrate."

"We are too late," Gabrielle announced flatly. "They have already begun."

"Begun what?" asked Hermione. 

"I don't know. But I can feel it. _She_ is doing something," Gabrielle said. She was about to say more, but instead grabbed reflexively at her neck, trying to remove her talisman.

"Don't!" Hermione ran to her. "Don't take it off."

"But it's burning again."

"Hermione - can you cope with her?" Harry jerked his head towards Gabrielle. "I want to have a look around. Ginny, you stay with them." After receiving quick nods from both of them, Harry Apparated across the Slough.

He hadn't been able to see the small, mausoleum-like structure that sat opposite the Slough until he arrived on the other side. The outside of the building appeared to be made of granite, and as he drew closer, Harry's scar gave a quick, sharp stab of pain, catching him off guard. Ignoring it, he pushed ahead. An imposing door of stone stood before him, and he used his wand to open it. Inside was a long room, with marble floors and many pillars around the perimeter. The room appeared longer than he would have expected from the outside, reminding Harry of magical tents, and the way they were much roomier on the inside than outside. In the center of the room stood Narcissa, bent over a marble fountain, from which flowed a cascade of green and gold sparks.

She did not appear surprised to see him. "I wondered how long it would take you to arrive." And then, in a calm but dramatic gesture, she tossed a handful of the enchanted fire burbling out of the fountain at Harry's feet. It instantly flared up, creating a wall of flame between them.

"And nothing like trying to set me on fire to say welcome." Harry tapped his wand impatiently against his thigh.

Narcissa regarded him coolly, despite the increasing heat of the flames. "Your father thought he was very clever, too, but at the end he was begging the Dark Lord for mercy, just like your mother. Apparently that is destined to be their legacy to you."

"I destroyed Voldemort, Narcissa," reminded Harry. "No one's going to beg his mercy ever again."

"Not from him, you fool, _me_," she hissed. "All these years everyone gave the credit to Lucius for the Dark deeds we carried out. Lucius was the one allowed to sit at the Master's right hand. But I should have been the one, I was the one with the Darkest talents - and once I have completed my mission here tonight, I will finally claim my rightful position, and carry on our Master's legacy."

Her words made Harry look at her more with bafflement than fear. "Look, just hand over your contraband wand and control the fire, and maybe you'll end up with a life sentence in St Mungo's criminally insane unit rather than life in Azkaban."

"Did you really think it would be that easy to defeat me?" she sneered, and before Harry could react, she had altered the fire so that it now encircled him. Stepping back, she leaned over the small flame that sprang from the marble fountain and began muttered an unfamiliar incantation, causing Harry's scar to throb as it hadn't done in over seven years. 

"Not even _she_ can help you now," Narcissa said, eyes glittering with satisfaction as his pain visibly increased. "That stupid girl, always prattling on about her powers to protect you, how she was the chosen Veela spirit-sister to you. And Dumbledore – making that talisman for her, all to keep the two of you safe. With the Slough, I have found a way to turn both Dumbledore's power contained in the talisman and your so-called sister's protection against you. The more I make her suffer, the more she draws the life from you as well."

**

Sure enough, Gabrielle was fighting to remove her necklace, whose protective powers had been diminished by the combination of being in the Slough of Despond and Narcissa's Dark spell. Hermione bent over her, struggling to keep Gabrielle from removing the pendant. 

"But look at her!" cried Fleur, dropping to Gabrielle's side and regarding Hermione with alarm. "It is burning her skin again!"

"I know," replied Hermione through gritted teeth. "But once this is removed any protective power that remains will be gone. Ginny, maybe you'd better go after Harry."

"But I can't leave all of you unprotected - what if they come after you? Gabrielle's vision showed you and Ron as their targets, too."

Ron shook his head. "Just go. We can take care of ourselves."

"Ron's right," agreed Hermione. "Something's happened to Harry - she wouldn't be in such a bad state if he were alright."

Ginny frowned, looking torn. At last she said, "Okay, I'm going. But stay back here." And she set off in the direction Harry had gone.

**

Ginny landed not far from where Harry had arrived and soon enough she, too, saw the stone building nearby. It was impossible to tell if anyone was inside, for the building lacked any windows and had, she discovered, an impossibly heavy marble door at the entrance. Impatient to be inside, Ginny aimed her wand at the door and blasted if from its hinges. She knew such a dramatic entrance rather reduced the element of surprise, but, like Gabrielle, she was loaded for Malfoy that night.

When Ginny crashed through the door and spotted Harry it was hard to tell who was worse off, Harry or Gabrielle. Although he did not appear burnt he seemed to be in excruciating pain, yet Narcissa wasn't even holding a wand to him, merely leaning over a marble fountain, out of which bubbled enchanted flame.

Ginny took aim with her wand and sent a stunning spell towards Narcissa. Before the spell even hit, however, Narcissa had drawn her own wand and sent the curse ricocheting back towards Ginny. 

Jumping to the side, Ginny called out, "By the authority of the Ministry I -"

Narcissa directed another hex at her, sending Ginny scrambling for cover. "I'm sorry, dear, what were you saying?" Narcissa inquired sweetly. 

Ginny crouched behind one of the stone pillars supporting the strange marble chamber. As far as she could tell, there was no one else around, not even Lucius. Hoping to be quicker this time, she darted around the pillar and took aim again at Narcissa. 

"I hope you at least brought that younger Delacour girl with you, since you're being so difficult." Narcissa inquired, apparently impervious to Ginny's hexes. "No? Then there's no reason for you to be here," she concluded. She sent a blast towards the second pillar, where Ginny was standing.

Ginny had rarely encountered anyone with such sharp wandsmanship, having been the quickest in her Auror class. But Narcissa was both fast and unerring, and the curse slammed against Ginny's leg. She hobbled for cover, unable to fight back.

"Yes, it's difficult to move when part of you is hit with an Immobilising Curse, isn't it?" Narcissa strolled closer to where Ginny hid. "Let's just finish things off, then. And I'll even leave a little sign for your friends, for old time's sake."

**

Hermione, Ron and Fleur kept an anxious watch over Gabrielle, who inexplicably seemed to experience a brief reprieve from her suffering. She stopped thrashing about and the silver pendant, which had glowed white with heat, returned to its normal colour. 

"What is 'appening?" demanded Fleur. "Is she alright?"

"I don't know," replied Hermione. "Gabrielle, can you hear us?"

"Hermione - look." Ron grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and pointed to the sky.

Both Hermione and Fleur looked, and gasped simultaneously as they saw the Dark Mark hovering in the direction they had last seen Harry and Ginny disappear.

"But he's gone, You-Know-Who is gone," Hermione said breathlessly, unable to tear her eyes away from the horrible symbol. "There's no reason to put the Mark up, the Death Eaters only did that when -" she clapped a hand across her mouth and shook her head.

"When they killed," Ron finished, looking back at Fleur and Gabrielle.

"He is not killed," Gabrielle gasped feebly, gripping her sister's hand for support.

All eyes turned to Ron. "Ginny," he whispered. "No, it's a trick, Harry said they wanted us, not Ginny. Why would they kill her?"

Hermione's face was grave. "I don't know. Gabrielle," she said, turning back to the Delacours, "can you help us out? Can you See anything?"

Gabrielle shook her head. Ugly blisters covered her chest where the necklace had come in contact with her flesh, and her breathing became increasingly shallow. 

"We've got to go find them," announced Ron. "I can't wait around here to see what's happened."

Hermione stepped close to him and said quietly, "But what about Gabrielle? We can't leave her and Fleur alone, and she can't even sit up, let alone walk."

"We can magick a stretcher and move her with us." Seeing Hermione's doubtful expression he added fiercely, "I have to go and help Ginny if I can - she's my sister. And Harry's our best friend."

"I know. I want to help them, too." Hermione bit down on her bottom lip, then took a deep breath and turned back to Fleur. "Okay, here's what we're doing," she began.

**

"_Immobilis Incendio_," commanded Harry, as Narcissa toyed with Ginny, chasing her through the ornamental columns. But the standard Flame-Freezing charm had no effect on Narcissa's fire. He still felt weak and dizzy from whatever Narcissa had been doing with her spellwork, but now that her attention was distracted the pain had abated, and he was determined to free himself and assist Ginny.

"_Finite Incantatum_," he tried. "_Desino Incendio_." The flames flickered for a moment at this last charm, but just as quickly came back full-force. He wished he had someone to perform the spell with him for added power. But Ginny was fighting for her life against Narcissa, and the only others who could help him, Ron and Hermione, were on the other side of the Slough, awaiting his return. And who knew when – or if – Sirius would be able to arrive with other Aurors.

Except - Harry blinked and shook his head to make sure what he was seeing was real, not a hallucination manufactured by Narcissa. Through the open door frame, he could see Hermione, Fleur and Ron, the latter carrying an unconscious Gabrielle. They approached, then turned and were lost to his sight.

Outside, Hermione pulled the group up short. "The Mark is directly overhead," she announced, "so this must be where they are." Everyone looked at Gabrielle. They had floated her on a stretcher as far as they'd dared, but then Ron had simply carried her the rest of the way, it being too difficult to protect her otherwise. 

Without a word, Fleur moved to Ron's side and took charge of her sister. "Go," she said, eyes on the door. 

"We're all sticking together," said Hermione. "Ron and I will enter first, but you stay right behind us."

She moved ahead and peered around the corner. Hermione could see Harry, and she saw Narcissa at the far side of the room, her back to them. There was no sign of Ginny.

Hermione glanced over her shoulder at Fleur. "New plan. You wait here with Gabrielle. It's going to take some tricky charm work to get to Harry through those flames and it's too difficult to do that and guard Gabrielle if she's unconscious."

Fleur nodded and sank down to the ground with her sister, watching anxiously as Ron and Hermione dashed through the doorway.

Narcissa spun around at the sounds of their footsteps. "Everyone is here except my guests of honour," she said, looking past Ron and Hermione. "Oh, I see."

"No!" Hermione turned and cast a stunning spell as Narcissa made for the door, and Ron joined in. But even their combined efforts were only enough to slow her down, not stun her completely.

Raising her wand, she commanded, "_Accio_ Delacours!" and the two sisters came flying into the room, landing in a heap on the floor.

Fleur jumped to her feet, livid with anger. "Nobody sends for a Delacour zat way! _Exilia_!"

The immediacy of her response caught Narcissa off guard, the spell throwing her backwards against a wall. 

Ron and Hermione instantly chorused "_Expelliarmus_!" and Narcissa's wand came flying to Hermione's outstretched hand.

"You foolish, foolish girl," said Narcissa to Fleur, albeit a trifle shakily. Then she took them all in with her glance. "After all you have done to save the little one, perhaps her life does not mean so much to you after all?" She flew from her position against the wall to stand before Fleur and her sister. Standing next to the fountain, she continued to murmur the spell she'd begun earlier.

Harry, who had felt almost back to normal, doubled over in pain, and Gabrielle began writhing within Fleur's grasp. "She can't take much more, you know," Narcissa addressed Fleur. "She was under our care for years, I know her limits." Turning to Hermione she added, "It takes longer to kill her this way, since you prevented her from removing her talisman, but I can still do it."

"Not without your wand," said Hermione. "You won't have enough power to continue otherwise, Slough or no Slough."

"Lucius!" At the first syllable of his name, Lucius Malfoy appeared in the archway, holding Ginny, who staggered at his side. His wand was pointed at her. Removing the arm supporting her, he tossed her wand to his wife as Ginny collapsed to the ground. 

"Let her go!" shouted Ron.

Now armed, Narcissa pointed Ginny's wand at Ron. "Why should I?" she inquired casually. "Because you say so?"

"Ron, don't," panted Ginny as Lucius grabbed her again and dragged her forward, her right side still afflicted by the Immobilising curse. 

"You should listen to your sister," Narcissa replied. "Now Miss Delacour, what is _your_ sister worth to you?" With a snap of the wand, she trapped them in flames just as she had trapped Harry.

"What do you want? Why are you doing this?" demanded Hermione.

"What do I want?" Narcissa's coldly smooth voice returned. "Only what is mine."

She began to pace about, twirling Ginny's wand as she spoke. "I suppose you, like most in the magical world, assumed I had been born to my wealth and privilege. I was not. Although I come from an ancient, pureblood family, my father's irresponsible attitudes, particularly towards Muggles and Mudbloods, cost my family our fortune. I completed only one year at Hogwarts before my parents sent me to Beauxbatons instead; it was less expensive and fewer people there knew of our embarrassed circumstances. But the Dark Lord was aware of my father's ridiculous attitudes, and soon he was killed. My mother and I had nothing, and none of the purebloods we'd once known would help the widow and daughter of a Muggle-lover like my father." She paused in her narrative and glared at Gabrielle and Fleur. "Not even your noble father," she sneered.

"That's not true!" burst out Fleur. "My father would never judge someone based solely on money."

"Oh really?" Narcissa asked. "He certainly had nothing to say to me. But he is of no consequence. I disposed of him eventually." She waved her hand to indicate the trifling nature of the issue. 

Then her expression hardened once again, as did her voice. "The purebloods I met held me in low regard because I had no money. Others shunned me because of my mother's views regarding the superiority of purebloods – it was clear to both of us that if my father had only maintained the views he'd once had about Mudbloods – that they brought down the magical world – none of our financial problems would have occurred. And it became clear to me my only hope of escaping both my poverty and the bitterness of my mother was to marry well. Although we had lost our home in England, my mother inherited a villa in France from her parents, who had used it as a summer house. I was living there, just after leaving school, when I met Lucius." She paused once more and glanced over at her husband.

"Taken in by the size and grandeur of the house, he assumed I was wealthy. I never let him see beyond the grand entrance hall of the house, for we couldn't afford to keep any of it up. Not until we were engaged did he put the pieces together and realise who my father was. He threatened to break off the engagement, but my cunning use of desiring charms put an end to that threat. Once we were married, however, he always cast my wretched history up to me. He insisted I stay in the background, and he stole all my best Dark Magic ideas and spells."

"Lies!" thundered Lucius. A moment ago he'd looked rather cowed, but now his face became dark with anger, and he lurched forward, dragging Ginny with him. "You should be grateful to me, Narcissa. I married you when, by your own admission, no-one else would have you. It was only through me that you ever attained any standing in the magical world. But what thanks do I get for my generosity? My own wife, using Dark Arts against me!"

Narcissa had become increasingly agitated as her husband spoke, swinging the wand in wider circles, her face flushed and eyes gleaming maniacally. "Shut up, Lucius!" she commanded. 

Then, collecting herself, she turned again to Hermione and continued. "I devoted myself to the Dark Lord, determined to prove myself worthy, and to redeem my name from the reputation created by my father. But every time I did something, from the lowliest hex to the most complicated Dark enchantment for our Master, Lucius took all the credit. He would have been nothing if not for me. Nothing!" She shouted the last word in a strangled, desperate voice and glared at all of them, as if daring anyone to defy her.

Nobody said anything and a strange silence filled the room, save for the snapping of the magical fires that imprisoned Harry and Fleur and Gabrielle. 

"Tonight, after years of searching, I have finally found the Slough of Despond. Once I have fully harnessed its energy, nothing can stop me from fulfilling my Master's vision. Not Harry Potter, and certainly not my foolish husband." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Lucius, if you thought the last seven years with me were bad for you, just wait."

"_Expelliarmus_!" Narcissa cried, pointing Ginny's wand at the one in Lucius' hand. The wand flew to her grasp. He dropped Ginny, looking shaken.

"Narcissa, what -"

"_Tacete_!" she commanded, and Lucius was struck mute. 

As Narcissa advanced menacingly towards her husband, Hermione turned to Ron. "We've got to get Ginny's wand back to her. I think we can do it if we use the Banishing charm. Now, while Narcissa's busy with Lucius," she whispered urgently. 

Taking extremely precise aim, Ron and Hermione sent the wand flying back to its owner. Narcissa stopped and gaped, first at the wand as it flew from her grasp, then at her three opponents.

Seeing everyone's attention was focused on Narcissa, Lucius bolted for the door. "'E is escaping!" shrieked Fleur from behind her fiery cell. Ron, who together with Hermione and Ginny, had been on the verge of attacking Narcissa, looked away from his target. His split-second of lost concentration was all Narcissa needed. She leapt to his side and grabbed him, holding Ron in front of her like a shield and turning his own wand on him. 

"Attack me now," she taunted. 

"My pleasure," announced a deep voice. Everyone looked in the direction of the sound; Sirius stood in the doorway, wand pointed at Narcissa. 

"Surely you're not willing to kill him just to get to me." She jerked Ron around so they both faced Sirius. "Your godson's best friend?"

"It won't be necessary to kill him," Sirius said, his ultra-rational voice contrasting sharply with Narcissa's hysterical tone as he strolled inside the room. "We've got you covered on all sides. Oh, and I found your husband, on his way out." He pointed near the doorway, where a Stupefied Lucius had been deposited in a heap. "Game's up, Narcissa."

"No! Make one move towards me and I'll kill him," she threatened, her eyes locked on Sirius and one arm firmly across Ron's neck, wand at his temple.

Furious with himself for having allowed Narcissa the opportunity to capture him, Ron decided to make a break for it, assuming Sirius had brought with him dozens of Aurors. He dropped his weight down and delivered a well-placed elbow to Narcissa's ribs. It may not have been magic, but the blow was effective and unexpected, loosening her grip enough for him to wriggle free. 

His move surprised everyone, but Narcissa recovered quickly enough. Ron's wand still in her hand, she pointed it at the pillar nearest Sirius and exploded it, showering the room with dust. "That should slow you down," she muttered. 

Raising her voice, she cried, "Try to destroy me! My husband ran like the coward he is, while I stayed and fought! And I will take each of you out, just as I did to him." She glanced at the crumbling ceiling that sagged where the pillar once stood, then down at the heap of rubble covering Sirius. Her face looking ever more possessed, she turned her attention back to her attackers.

From behind the imprisoning flames, Harry strained to catch a glimpse of Sirius. When the dust settled, he saw his godfather lying inertly beneath the pillar. 

"Ron!" Harry choked out. "Help him!"

Ron glanced at Narcissa, who had jerked around at the sound of Harry's voice. Unarmed, Ron remained vulnerable and judging from her expression, all her wrath appeared concentrated on him at the moment. "You're not getting off that easily!" she cried. 

As Narcissa lunged towards her brother, Ginny dragged herself forward and together with Hermione took aim.

"_Stupefy_!" they shouted together. The spell hit her squarely, but not before Narcissa had shouted "_Incendio_." The stunning spell hit just as she uttered her own spell, and as she fell forward her wand flailed out of control, with flames springing up everywhere.

Ignoring the rising flames, Hermione pointed her wand at Ginny. "_Finite Incatatum_," she commanded, restoring Ginny to a fully mobile state. 

Ginny jumped forward and grabbed Ron's wand from the now unconscious Narcissa, tossing it to her brother, then dashed to Sirius' side.

"Ron, try to get Fleur and Gabrielle," urged Hermione, as Ginny began trying to free Sirius. "I'll try to help Harry." She glanced to the doorway. "I thought Harry told him to bring backup - isn't there anyone else out there to help?"

Apparently there was not. Hermione dodged around the various blazes begun by Narcissa's errant wand and drew closer to the small circle of flames surrounding Harry. The fire gave off tremendous heat, but being enchanted at least it was smokeless. 

"None of the standard charms seem to work on it," Harry called out to her weakly. "I tried Desino and they flickered for a moment – maybe if we perform it together?"

She nodded. "Tackling these enchanted fires is like subduing dragons – it takes more than one person fighting them. Can you jump out when the flame pauses?"

"I can try," Harry gasped. Hermione glanced from him to Gabrielle. Just as Narcissa had explained to Harry, the weaker Gabrielle became, the worse he looked as well.

"No, don't," she instructed. "I'll come in for you instead. Save your energy to perform the spell."

"But that will be for only a few seconds," Harry protested. "It's not enough time."

"It will be." Hermione set her jaw in a determined way and raised her wand. Watching her worriedly, Harry raised his as well and together they shouted "_Desino Incendio_!"

Hermione darted forward before she'd even finished the last syllable. She grabbed Harry's wrist and yanked him towards her in one quick motion, his body clearing the flames just before they sprang up again. 

Ron, meanwhile, had followed Hermione's lead and braved the fires to pull out both Fleur and Gabrielle. He and Fleur were dragging Gabrielle between them as they all struggled towards the one way out of the stone chamber. 

Ginny joined them with Sirius on a stretcher. "He's alive," she called out. "I blasted away the broken parts of the pillar, but he's got multiple fractures. Maybe spinal trauma as well. We've got to move him very carefully. I put him in a Full Body Bind to keep him stabilised."

"Good," nodded Harry, one arm draped across Hermione's shoulder for support. "Let's get out of here." But everyone's initial relief at the prospect of freedom turned to dismay as they drew closer to the door.

The many small blazes that had filled the room now seemed to be working together. A wall of living flame leapt up in front of the doorway, and a similar line advanced from behind, the distance between the two diminishing with each passing second. Clearly, the flame was able to carry out the intentions of its creator whether she was conscious or not.

"What are we going to do?" asked Ginny, her face frantic. "None of us could extinguish the flames isolating Harry or Fleur – how are we going to get through this?"

"If we all perform Desino together, that should allow at least one person enough time to get through," said Hermione. "We could go one by one."

Harry shook his head. "It won't work as well with half of us on this side and half on the other. Not to mention we can't move Gabrielle or Sirius through there very quickly."

"Or these two," Ginny indicated Narcissa and Lucius.

"Who cares?" Fleur demanded. "Zey deserve to die in 'ere."

"_I_ want them out of here alive," interjected Ron. "Hermione, ever read about the Patronus charm being used on anything besides a Dementor?"

"I can't recall. But it's a good idea - the Slough accentuates negative energy, much like a Dementor feeds on unhappiness; at this point, I think the Slough's power is what's keeping these fires active."

"Let's try it," panted Harry, his face flushed from both exertion and the heat of the encroaching flames. 

They all raised their wands and closed their eyes, trying to concentrate on a happy memory. Doing so was no easier in the face of an enchanted fire than a Dementor; even though a fire didn't intentionally suck out all happy thoughts, it was certainly very difficult to concentrate on happiness knowing flames were licking at your heels.

"Ready?" cried Harry, and in unison they shouted, "_Expecto Patronus_!" 

Large shimmering figures filled the room and charged at the flames, Harry's stag taking the lead. The figures passed through the flames, creating a clear path, and the group moved quickly through the doorway. The Patronus figures continued into the night and seemed to prance across the Slough, before finally disappearing. 

Harry took a deep breath, the cool night air rushing into his lungs. Still leaning heavily against Hermione, he surveyed the rest of his friends.

Ron's face was flushed almost as red as his hair, which stood on end. He had one arm around Gabrielle's waist, as did Fleur. Behind them floated Sirius, then Lucius and Narcissa, with Ginny close by. Although the Immobilising curse no longer affected her, her body still ached with fatigue and from the battering she had received at the hands of Lucius.

After determining everyone was accounted for, Harry cleared his throat and said feebly, "Home?"

**

The scene at Sirius' estate almost made their time at the Slough seem calm. Every mediwitch and wizard on hand had been summoned as soon as the group straggled inside, having been forced to walk a distance and gain entrance from outside since Apparation directly into the house was not possible. 

Madame Delacour appeared beyond speech, and could little more than clutch Fleur so tightly her daughter was beginning to look oxygen-starved. When the medical staff came in with Gabrielle, who had been removed for special treatments, Madame Delacour finally released her elder daughter to rush to her younger girl's side. Fleur joined her, giving Gabrielle a kiss on the cheek, then stepping aside to let her mother fuss over her sister.

And then Fleur astonished everyone by walking up to Ron and giving him a kiss that more than made up for the many fantasies he had entertained of just such a moment. When he recovered his powers of speech, he asked feebly, "How do I get you to do that again?"

Fleur appeared to be reconsidering her hasty action. Tossing her hair and stepping back, she said stiffly, "It will not 'appen again. It is just - no one 'as ever walked through fire for me before. I appreciate ze gesture."

"I have some other gestures you might appreciate," Ron offered hopefully, but Fleur had already turned away and was now talking with her sister, who had revived sufficiently to sit up. 

Harry smiled at Hermione and said quietly, "I guess I should thank you, too, for walking through multiple fires for me."

"It was nothing," Hermione said modestly. "Just some variations on the basic Flame-Freezing charm." Then she looked at him and said, more quietly still, "And you know I'd do that - and more - for you."

Harry merely nodded, and squeezed her hand tightly. There was a lot he wanted to say to her - how his heart had seemed to stop along with the flames the moment she stepped through them, how he'd realised tonight he'd never stopped missing her - but now seemed like completely the wrong time. She had just ended a major relationship, with his best friend no less, and they'd all had a close call with Narcissa. 

In all likelihood he was just a bit overwrought from the effects of the evening, Harry told himself. It wasn't every day he sent Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy off for what promised to be a long stay in Azkaban. And Ron had indicated Draco could be charged, too, if the Ministry was able to extradite him from France. Believing his parents' story that they had opted to move to confinement in St Mungo's, he had followed their instructions and left the country immediately after dropping them off. 

Then Sirius was brought in, looking dazed and battered like Ginny, and walking gingerly. He headed straight for Harry and hugged him wordlessly. "Sorry about the backup," he said at last, with a wry smile. "I owled the Ministry as soon as you left but they couldn't organise that many people as quickly as I wanted, so I just went ahead on my own."

"It's okay," assured Harry, relieved to see his godfather walking and talking again. Glancing at the other side of the room, he said, "I think someone else wants a word with you just now."

Sirius smiled over at Madame Delacour and swiftly crossed the room to her side. Harry watched them for a moment, glad Sirius had found someone who made him so happy. His attention was diverted, however, by the sudden entrance of Seamus.

"Gin," Seamus said weakly, on beholding her dishevelled form. "They told me…" he started to explain, then trailed off and simply walked forward until he had reached her. "You okay?"

Ginny wrapped her arms around him. "Yes," she said into his ear. "Couldn't be better."

Harry noted Gabrielle was studying Seamus intently, and realised she had never met him before. "This is your friend?" she asked.

"Yeah, that's Seamus. He was in my year at Hogwarts. He and Ginny are, erm, together," Harry finished, the last part seeming unnecessary as Seamus kissed Ginny with a force that made even Sirius blush. 

Only Gabrielle remained unfazed. "He has a very strong…aura," she announced. "Yes, very strong indeed." 

"Aura?" Hermione snorted, and Harry led her away from both the reunion scene and Gabrielle's indignant glares. 

They stepped outside. The lights from the house shone brightly through the windows, but the grounds remained dark and shadowy and quiet. "So, Ron and Fleur," started Harry, then stopped short, deciding that might not be the best topic.

But Hermione appeared amused. "They bicker almost as well as he and I do."

"Hermione," Harry began again, staring out at the perfectly manicured lawns, "What do you think of when you do the Patronus charm?"

He half expected her to refuse to answer, and sure enough, Hermione merely gave him an enigmatic smile before turning away. 

"Sorry," he muttered. "I guess it's kind of a personal question."

Hermione looked back at him, her expression now amused. "Can't you guess?" she asked softly. When he did nothing but look at her in a puzzled way, she asked, "What do _you_ think of?"

Now Harry blushed and looked down at his shoes. They were slightly singed, he noticed. Tonight he'd been thinking of Hermione, not one particular moment, but just - her. "Um, it's kind of hard to explain," he muttered. "I don't really think about one particular memory, like I did when I was first learning. Tonight, I was thinking about someone who's - " he paused, choosing his words carefully. "Who's taught me a lot - about courage and about…happiness," he added, still speaking to his shoes instead of her. "Again, it wasn't just one memory, but how that person made me feel."

"Your dad?"

"Not tonight." Harry turned and looked closely at Hermione. Her eyes were exhausted, and her hair looked as dishevelled as he'd ever seen it. "Someone else."

"Ah." At his words, Hermione's eyes had brightened and the smile returned to her tired face. "That's how it is for me, too," she said quietly. Harry gave her a questioning look as he began to guess at her meaning - and the inspiration for her Patronus - but once again, she simply smiled and said nothing further.

Harry nodded, more to himself than anything. Then he took Hermione's hand, and together they walked back inside, where their friends were waiting for them.

****

OK, a rather PG ending to the whole thing. A virtual bottle of Le Pin for Wotan, in thanks for massive beta-reading and suggestions. Props to J.K. Rowling, Christina Rossetti (obvious subtitle indebtedness, and for quoting her poem "Goblin Market" slightly out of the context in which _I_ always read it), Bunyon's _Pilgrim's Progress _for the Slough of Despond concept. And thanks to everyone who's been reading: Kaelyn, Draco's Girl, Amie, ~*Ginny*~ ( I hope you're not wretching now from suggestions at the ending), iggly wiggly (thanks for your patience and enthusiasm), Leela, Moriel, lady_alijan, the Wizened Wizard, * luna *, erinrose, grace, cassandra claire, intregue, Princess Kate, ~~R~~, Emily, Stacy, Oi!, Bec, HGW, Ecco, Keith Fraser, CinammonOatmeal, Bookcat (always one of my most perspicacious readers), meri, Jocetta, Victoria, Shakira, Tessie, Elanor Gamgee, William 212, Claudine, Your #1 Fan, Ron's Babe, Silver Star, Miss 420, cloud_strife_73 (ever loyal - slash or straight), Fluff, Athena, Kathy, Shareen, jen, No Reply, Flora.


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